March Malaise
by ecb327
Summary: AU. Harry Potter lives an ordinary post-college, non-magical life. Everything is hunky dory until he realizes that he's got feelings for none other than the sister of his roommate, Ron Weasley. Contains H/G, R/H, some Nuna, fluff, angst, and a fairly engaging plot line, if I do say so myself. T for language, and just in case. Nitwit, oddment, blubber, tweak. Right. Toodle pip!
1. Just Friends

_Summary_ - AU. Harry Potter lives an ordinary post-college, non-magical life. Everything is hunky dory until he realizes that he's got feelings for none other than the sister of his roommate, Ron Weasley. Moreover, she's just been swept off her feet by handsome Dean Thomas, who happens to have a grudge against Harry and Ron ever since their best friend, Hermione, punched his cousin (Draco Malfoy) in the face. Contains H/G, R/H, fluff, angst, and a fairly engaging plot line, if I do say so myself_._

_Disclaimer_ - I regret to inform you that I am not, cannot, and, unless science makes some major technological advances, will never be JK Rowling. In the meantime, I'll speak in a fake British accent and force the kids I babysit to read Harry Potter even if it's past their bedtime and for once they actually want to go to sleep. At any rate, I own none of the characters, terms, references, or places aside from ones I create and my storyline. Alright, I'm done. R&R! Also, while I wish I had half the artistic ability of the people who are part of DeviantArt, I do not, and the cover photo is credited to user **~myavi** on said site.

_Author's note _- This is an AU fic that takes place as if the golden trio, and all the other characters, are living in real modern day life. I've taken liberties in writing their characters, so I apologize in advance if you dislike any of my depictions. Essentially, this fic uses characters/names and references from the books but is otherwise not entirely consistent with the specific personalities that JKR so skillfully crafted. This is also moderately for the sake of fluff and angst and H/G (and R/H) ending up together.

_x_

_Chapter One: Just Friends_

It was raining outside, and Harry Potter was bored.

This seemed to be the case a great deal lately; perhaps it was the dreary weather of mid March, or the fact that nothing was really going on in his life. Either way, this malaise was really getting to him, but as yet he had no way to remedy it.

The sound of keys jingling caught his ear as he headed from the kitchen to the living room, bowl of popcorn in one hand. A few seconds later, his best friend and roommate, Ron Weasley, poked his head in.

"Hi," Harry said, flopping down on the couch. "Nice weather out there."

"Tell me about it." Ron groaned and shook his umbrella off before stepping inside. "What's going on?"

Harry gestured vaguely to the television. "The usual."

"Ah." Ron nodded. "So, uh, I talked to Hermione."

"You did? Hold on." His interest piqued, it was with some annoyance that he checked his phone, which was vibrating wildly. "Oi, it's Ginny. One sec."

Ron grimaced. The fact that his little sister had become so close with his roommate was one that he'd been unwillingly forced to accept. He couldn't help his protective side, which tended towards the if-you-hurt-her-I-will-hurt-you mindset, coupled with slight resentment; why was she calling Harry instead of him? If something was wrong, shouldn't he be the first to know? Of course, she had five other brothers to choose from, not to mention her copious amount of friends, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

Harry hung up the phone with an apologetic look. "Sorry, we're meeting for coffee tomorrow and her laptop's acting up and a professor was being a total - sorry. Go on. You were saying?"

"So I talked to Hermione."

"You talked to Hermione." Hermione Granger was a long-time friend of both men; she currently worked for a publishing company and tutored teens in all subject areas on the side. She was a rational, incredibly intelligent young woman, and it was no wonder that Ron had been quite infatuated with her ever since seventh grade, which was now eleven years ago.

"I guess she saw it coming, and I guess...well, she didn't exactly give me a straight up answer, you know? I reckon she needs some time to think, or something, but I just - I dunno, mate." He ran a hand across his stubble ruefully. "I kind of assumed she'd respond differently, that's all. She didn't say no. She didn't say yes. She just said that she needs time to think about it and thank you very much you're a lovely friend and so on." He flounced down on the sofa next to Harry. "What do you think?"

"I know Hermione," said Harry carefully, "and if she didn't feel the same way, she would have said no then and there. She's reasonable - very nice; she would let you down gently - but really has no patience for games. If she says she'll think about it, well, she'll think about it. Give it time."

Ron looked down glumly at the remote control between his hands. "Right."

They sat in comfortable silence for a minute, sound muted as over-saturated images played across the screen. Then Harry's phone buzzed again. Ron saw that it was Ginny, rolled his eyes slightly, and began flipping through channels.

Harry stood up and walked into the dining room so as to have more privacy. The two of them were renting a modest flat a few blocks away from the campus and town centre, and, for being 23-year-olds, they kept it impressively tidy. Part of it was admittedly Mrs. Weasley's semi-annual visits, in which she maniacally dusted and scrubbed every surface whilst the others sat around watching _The Miranda Show_.

He hit answer and asked, "Hey, what is it?" Ron turned the volume up in the other room and he could hear muffled shouts and crowds cheering. Football.

"Did Ron talk to Hermione?"

Harry froze. It seemed as if girls were perpetually trying to get him involved in some drama or other, and frankly, he didn't have the energy to deal with it anymore. One of these days he was going to give someone a proper mouthful about this absurdity, but not Ginny. Never Ginny.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, sorry. Um, why do you want to know?"

"Oh, come off it. You know Hermione and I are roommates."

"More like sisters," he said. "Really." The two of them together presented a double threat that, if it was the end of the world, he was positive would put them at the top of the food chain.

"I just want to know -"

"What Ron said?"

"Well...yeah."

Harry shut his eyes for a moment. He loved Hermione dearly, but there had been times throughout their friendship that she'd been moody and considerably angsty about Ron. It wasn't as if Harry didn't care; rather, he still had no idea how to deal with emotional women. Ginny posing this question seemed like the entrance into a he-said-she-said vortex for which, if it did not turn out favorably, he was sure to be blamed. "Ron just said that they talked. I'm confident you can fill in the blanks then."

"We both know that's not what I'm asking about," said Ginny matter-of-factly. "What was his reaction?"

"You mean like, what he thought about it?"

"Very good, Potter. You're a bright one," she snapped. "_Yes_, Harry, I mean 'what he thought about it.'" This she said in an uncannily accurate impression of his voice, and he visualized her hands flailing a bit, probably forming sarcastic air quotations, as they always did when a situation became frustrating.

"Okay, okay, sorry." Harry glanced covertly at the other room, then lowered his voice. "Well, he sounded sort of disappointed."

"Disappointed," repeated Ginny slowly. "Like how?"

"Like the fact that she didn't give a definite answer and he's been building up to this moment, this sudden profession of love or whatever, for ages - years, really - was kind of off putting to him." He heard a little gasp at this pronouncement, which struck him as suspicious. Ginny wasn't the gasping type, and this noise sounded all too familiar. "Ginny, is Hermione there?" he asked, leaning against the sideboard wearily.

"Er..."

"Am I on speakerphone?"

"Um, well..."

"Great." He smacked himself in the forehead. "I should've known. Hermione?"

A hesitant pause, then, "Hello, Harry!"

"Yeah, in the future, you could just text me or - and here's a brilliant idea - _Ron_ if you want to find out how he's feeling about this all."

"I know, I'm sorry," she apologized "I just - I panicked. Oh, Harry, did he really plan all of this?"

"I wouldn't say 'plan,' but he's been in love with you forever, and it took years of building up courage for him to finally admit that to you."

She sounded tearful. "I love him, Harry."

Well that was a bit uncomfortable. "Right. But I'm not the one you need to tell that to. I think you know who it is, and right now he's sitting in the room next to me" - he craned his neck to see what his roommate was up to now - "staring dejectedly out the window," he finished. "You know what you're supposed to do in this situation. So go do it."

"It's just not that -"

"Go do it," said Harry firmly. Then, taking a deep breath, he added, "I can be out of here in ten, tops. Come over and have a proper talk with him, alright?"

"Okay, okay. You're right."

Deciding he was very much sick of all this girl business - it was like high school all over again, really - he said, "I know. Can I talk to Ginny now?"

"Sure. You're a great friend, Harry."

He waited until he heard,

"Hey again. Sorry about that. We just had to know, and she was going mental."

"Is she coming over now?"

"Um, yeah. Just grabbed her rain slicker and keys."

"Good."

"Yeah."

"It's about time with them, isn't it?" said Harry, going down the hall to his room and rummaging through messy drawers for a sweatshirt. He extracted a navy Abercrombie & Fitch zip-up hoodie and embarked on a search for socks and trainers. "It's been way too long."

"I agree. They're overdue."

"Exactly. Hey, mate!" he shouted. Ron gave an incoherent grunt. "I'm running into town for a bit, want anything?"

"I'm fine," Ron said flatly. Harry seized a pair of mismatched socks and entered the living room. His friend looked up at him helplessly. "Do you think she likes me?"

"I think it'll be just fine," Harry replied, clapping him on the shoulder. Spotting his trainers, he stuffed his feet hurriedly into the toes and snatched an umbrella from the arm of a chair positioned closest to the door. This arm in particular tended to be the recipient of mostly useless junk that both men deposited all too casually and left to accumulate until Ron's fear of spiders motivated a hearty cleanup of dust and cobwebs. "Ginny, you still there?"

She answered in the affirmative. He waved at Ron, then stepped out into the street.

"Good lord, it's rainy."

"Yeah, it's pretty gross." He could hear the noise of computer keys tapping rapidly. Ginny was an absurdly fast typist, and a superbly talented science student. No doubt she was writing the next greatest thesis on plasmids and vectors and what-have-you.

"Alright, I'm in the car." He ducked inside and started up the engine. "Hold on." Dutifully, he set the phone in the stand Mrs. Weasley had insistently given him for Christmas one year, so that he could always have two hands on the wheel even while talking to other people. "You're on speaker."

"Great."

"Yep." He pulled out of the parking spot. "So what are you up to?"

"Last minute revisions and edits. This bad boy's due at midnight. I'm almost done, though. You planning to go anywhere?"

"Nope."

"Meet at the bookstore in fifteen?"

"Sure."

"See you then."

She hung up, leaving Harry with an excessively idiotic grin on his face. He couldn't help it; even the most boring conversations (and this had certainly been one) were colorful and exciting with Ginny Weasley. He couldn't deny that he had feelings for her, but, in a much more realistic and typical way, he could simply avoid said feelings until an opportunity arose. An opportunity which he would most likely not take. It was a good system.

He drummed his fingers on the dash, waiting for the traffic light to switch to green. A few more turns and he had parked in front of the Flourish & Blotts book shop. As he made a run for the entrance, dodging rain drops unsuccessfully, he crashed head first into someone. Taking a step backwards, he apologized profusely, but his stream of "sorry"s was interrupted by an incredulous,

"_Harry?_"

It took a moment to wipe the rain from his glasses. "Cho?"

"Er - hi." She shifted uncomfortably, no doubt having second thoughts about engaging in this situation. "How are you?"

"I'm, uh, good," he stammered. Cho Chang was his high school girlfriend; they had dated halfway through senior year and ended it a few months later, making prom exceedingly awkward. He'd gone with Luna Lovegood, one of Ginny's friends and a last minute resort. Meanwhile, Cho didn't hesitate to flash her new boyfriend, Michael Corner, in front of his face, until Luna, to her credit, suggested that they leave early.

That was a miserable night that he would rather get out of his head: Ron and Hermione had been in a fight and proceeded to have a massive shouting match in the parking lot, which, as usual, Harry had to sort out for the teenagers. He'd initially followed Hermione down the street and spent an hour sitting on the curb, arm around her as she broke down and alternately ranted and cried about Ron's "despicable" behavior, finally concluding with teary-eyed thanks and the emotional proclamation that Harry was the best friend she'd ever had. When he got home, the young man in question texted him demanding that he come over, and after an unfortunate walk-in on Ginny snogging her prom date, which left him with a host of confusing feelings, he went up to his best friend's room. There, he patiently endured another hour of "and she's totally out of line" "that was so below the belt" "I can't believe" "I honestly thought she was more mature than that" "and did you hear her say" before he could drive back home and collapse into bed at three o'clock in the morning. It was neither Ron's nor Hermione's finest moment.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention back on Cho. "Sorry, blanked out a bit there. You were saying...?"

"Right." She tucked a strand of silky black hair behind her ear and gave a little cough. "Well, I've been working recently."

"Oh, brilliant. Where?"

"I'm a secretary at an accountant's office. It's really good, he's been hinting at a promotion for the past couple weeks so...crossing my fingers!" She laughed weakly. "Have you been working?"

"Um, well...no," admitted Harry reluctantly. "I share an apartment with Ron, actually. He's applying for jobs but so far nothing's turned up."

"Ah."

"Harry!" They both turned around, somehow managing to bump hands in the process. It was Ginny, who was running towards him. "I'm so sorry I'm late," she panted, "I was only - oh. Hello, Cho."

"Hi," replied Cho, with an awkward little wave. Ginny shot Harry a questioning look; he shrugged and she tilted her head pityingly. "I should really get going," Cho said abruptly. "I have an appointment with a client and this could be -"

"Bye!" said Ginny cheerfully, waving her off. She seized Harry's arm and dragged him into the store, which was warmly lit and had a quite cozy ambience about it. "Ouch. That was something."

"I know. Cho? Of all the people to run into..."

"I'm sorry," she said, biting her lip.

"Ginny! Are you laughing at me?"

"No." A grin split her face. "No, I'm not."

Harry groaned. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it's just that she - well, it was a tad amusing to watch you stutter and make a right fool of yourself in front of her. Kind of endearing, actually. Like sophomore year all over again."

_Endearing, huh. _Out loud he said dryly, "Thanks. Thanks for the never ending support, Ginevra."

She shook her head, still smiling, and placed a hand absentmindedly on his arm. "Coffee?"

His heart beating faster when she didn't remove it, he said dumbly, "Oh. Yes."

"On me, for making fun of you." She relinquished her hold on him to reach for her wallet, then lowered her voice. "And between us, she never deserved you."

"What?" he said sharply.

"Nothing," she replied breezily, and winked at him. _Just friends just friends just friends,_ he thought adamantly. _Just friends._

They chatted over cappuccinos and a shared cinnamon roll. The rain eased off just as Ginny was getting up to leave; her paper, though probably already stellar, demanded a few more look overs, and Harry ought to get back to the flat to check on Ron.

"Thanks for hanging out, it was lovely," she said. Harry considered helping her into her jacket but wisely restrained that particular urge. "Are we still on for tomorrow?"

"'Course. Good luck on your paper," he said. "See you later."

She waved at him as they went their separate ways, leaving Harry standing in partial sunlight, feeling very confused indeed.


	2. This Dean Character

_Summary_ - AU. Harry Potter lives an ordinary post-college, non-magical life. Everything is hunky dory until he realizes that he's got feelings for none other than the sister of his roommate, Ron Weasley. Moreover, she's just been swept off her feet by handsome Dean Thomas, who happens to have a grudge against Harry and Ron ever since their best friend, Hermione, punched his cousin (Draco Malfoy) in the face. Contains H/G, R/H, fluff, angst, and a fairly engaging plot line, if I do say so myself_._

_Disclaimer_ - I regret to inform you that I am not, cannot, and, unless science makes some major technological advances, will never be JK Rowling. In the meantime, I'll speak in a fake British accent and force the kids I babysit to read Harry Potter even if it's past their bedtime and for once they actually want to go to sleep. At any rate, I own none of the characters, terms, references, or places aside from ones I create and my storyline. Alright, I'm done. R&R! Also, while I wish I had half the artistic ability of the people who are part of DeviantArt, I do not, and the cover photo is credited to user **~myavi** on said site_._

_Author's note - _Thank you for the wonderful reviews, they so make my day. Keep it up and I'll keep updating as fast as I can; truth be told, I've spent the better part of my math SAT prep classes working on this fic. If I fail the SATs, I'll blame it on being a Potterhead.

_x_

_Chapter Two: This Dean Character_

"Ron?" he asked, kicking off his shoes.

"Oh, hey."

"Did Hermione come over, or...?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"We're going to be friends."

Harry sucked in a breath. "Mate, I'm so sorry." He moved to sit next to his friend. "Are you okay?"

Ron scowled and punched the side of the couch. "Yeah, I just don't understand. I mean, I thought we were a thing?"

"Me too. You were on and off all through high school, yeah?"

"Except when she dated that Bulgarian exchange student in freshman year, and the time she went to junior prom with Cormac McLaggen, but that was just 'cause she was jealous of me and Lavender."

"Yeah. So why does she just want to be friends?"

"She doesn't want to mess up our friendship. Plus, if we didn't work out it'd put our other friends" - he nodded cordially at Harry - "in an awkward position." He paused, then exploded, "She's so bloody rational! Why can't she just act on her feelings for once? Who gives a damn about pros and cons and 'potential repercussions'? Our relationship is about _us!_ No one else! I'm sick of her effing reasons and logic. They're only excuses to hide the fact that - that she doesn't like me." His voice trailed off, then he confessed resignedly, "I love her, mate. I really do."

Harry bit his lip. Would repeating Hermione's words make Ron angrier and/or cause more drama? Probably. But Ron was his best mate, so he said simply, "She loves you too."

"What?" asked Ron, head snapping up in the same way Harry's had in response to Ginny's comment about Cho.

"Just don't give up," Harry said. "She'll come to eventually."

Still flummoxed by Harry's sudden pronouncement, Ron made some sort of noise in the back of his throat, swallowed, and repeated, "_What?_"

To which Harry replied breezily, "Nothing."

_xxx_

When he hesitantly recounted the story to Hermione over a stack of manuscripts needing appraisals, she threw her pen onto the table indignantly.

"_How_ is he surprised? Does he really think that after all these years of being friends, I wouldn't love him?"

The librarian, Miss Irma Pince, hustled over and shushed Hermione; she grimaced at Harry, who resumed their conversation, "Well, I think he knew that you love him in a platonic way, like I love you and you love me, but he never thought you'd be _in_ love with him."

"Hmph." She scribbled a few notes in the margin of a document, then looked up at him, folding her hands. "So. You and Ginny."

This utterance was wholly unexpected and caught him immensely off guard. He opened and shut his mouth several times, under the calculating scrutiny of Hermione, before saying, "Erm...come again?"

"Do you still fancy her?"

"What?" he sputtered. "That's - that's rubbish! I've _never _fancied -"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Please."

"Okay, so I fancied her a bit in high school. But that was only because - because she -"

"Because she _what_, exactly?"

"I don't know!" Flustered, Harry threw his hands up in the air. "She's Ron's sister, she's beautiful, she's funny, and in high school she had about twenty boyfriends."

Hermione's nostrils flared dangerously. "Oh," she said, and he did not like the ominous expression on her face, "so you liked her because you thought she was...easy?"

"No!" cried Harry, backpedaling furiously. "I just mean that everybody seemed to be all over her, and - and they had a point, didn't they? They saw something in her, and so did I. That's all."

"Hm." Hermione tapped her chin with her pen thoughtfully. "So do you still see that 'something' in her?"

"Hermione..."

"Fine, fine." She raised her hands in surrender as he muttered,

"Thank you." Wishing he too had something remotely productive to do while she set to work scratching things out and doodling little symbols that clearly meant something in publisher's language, Harry stared at the ceiling. He didn't have feelings for Ginny. They'd both dated plenty of people since they first met, or at least she had. Harry, well...there was Cho. And that brief fling with Romilda Vane, though that scarcely counted after he panicked and ran away from her on their first date. ("I swear, she was trying to poison me," he told Hermione grimly, and she didn't even try to disagree.)

It was with some affection that he watched his best friend work. Despite her determination to prove otherwise, he refused to believe that she legitimately enjoyed doing schoolwork for the past eleven years, and seeing her do something that she _chose_ to do, that she loved to do, made him feel a brotherly sense of pride.

She seemed fairly absorbed, and he was just about to sneak off when she spoke up,

"I just don't understand how you don't -"

Really? _Really,_ now? "Hermione!"

His sense of brotherly pride diminished somewhat as she took on a quite urgent tone, jaw set. "No, listen! It's so perfectly obvious that you fancy her, and clearly she's torn, because she's Ron's sister, and you've been friends for ages, but don't you see? She's graduating this year! She's going to move on, maybe take a year abroad, maybe find someone else, and if you want a chance, you know what you need to do!"

"I don't want to mess our friendship up," Harry said, which, even to his ears, sounded lame. He winced. "Look, Hermione..."

"How can you be so unwilling to risk anything if you like her so much? Your friendship is strong enough to withstand anything at this point, isn't it?" She gazed at him in frustration. "You deserve her, and she deserves you. I'm just saying that -"

"Isn't that what you said to Ron?" Harry cut in. "That - even though you love him - you don't want to ruin your friendship?"

"Well, yes," said Hermione quietly. "I - I see what you mean."

"Thank you," Harry repeated. "Is that the real reason you called me down here?"

"Well, that and the fact that I desperately need help sorting these papers out."

Harry sighed. "After all those years of you completing essays for Ron, I never would've guessed you'd be requiring _my_ services in getting _your_ work done."

She made a face at him. "Then it's about time, isn't it?"

"Touche."

_xxx_

The next few days passed by without further ado. Ron and Hermione were, as far as Harry could tell, perfectly civil, if a tad more polite than they had been before. Ginny was swamped with work and stopped showing up at their frequent get-togethers, much to Harry's chagrin.

Thankfully, an old friend had just arrived in town: one morning Harry walked into the kitchen to find Ron beaming at his laptop.

"You okay?" Harry asked, fixing himself a slice of toast and reaching for the coffee pot.

"Harry! Look who it is!"

It took him a moment to recognize the wide, affable face filling the screen. "_Neville?_ No bloody way!"

"C'mere!" Ron gestured to the stool next to him, and Harry took a seat, also grinning.

Neville Longbottom had been the scapegoat of their high school class. Raised by his grandmother (his parents had been involved in a disastrous car crash years before, and while they survived, their brains were permanently damaged, necessitating a long-term stay at an assisted living facility), he lost everything, tripped over carpets, ran into doors, and was a general liability. Regardless, he had a good heart, and became close friends with Ron and Harry from the first day.

"I've been great, yeah," he was saying. "Just got a job at the greenhouse near town! I thought I'd drop by, maybe take you out for drinks, how's that?"

"Definitely! Just name the time and place and we'll be there!" Ron ran a hand through his ginger hair. "Blimey, we haven't seen you in ages."

"I know! How's your family?"

Harry stared down at his hands as Ron began enthusing about all the things Bill and Charlie had been up to, and the twins' joke shop, and Percy's new political career. He had come to terms with being a foster child a long time ago. The lack of biological parents in his life never bothered him too much; after all, he was barely a year old when they died, and knew no different. Still, being passed from house to house and having only "guardians" to sign paperwork for eighteen years was perhaps not his favorite thing about the situation. He understood that many of the families with whom he lived over the years simply didn't have sufficient resources to house another child, and anybody was an improvement on his mother's sister, Petunia, and her husband Vernon Dursley, but it stung that nobody deemed him worthy enough of adoption. Now that he was of age, of course, things were different, and he had managed to build his own niche with Ron and Hermione and the rest of their friends. Regardless, family was not a topic on which he wished to linger overlong.

Thankfully, Ron finished up just as Neville had to bid them farewell, and after ending the call he turned to Harry.

"You alright, mate?"

"Yeah, fine." Harry fixed his gaze on the toaster. "It's just, well..."

"No, I get it," Ron said immediately, looking at him earnestly.

Taken aback - he shouldn't be surprised; Ron seemed to be finding emotional clarity on a lot of topics lately - Harry asked dubiously, "You do?"

"Yeah, sure, of course." He patted Harry's shoulder consolingly. "Seeing Neville made you miss the good old days, eh?"

"Wha - no, no, that's not it," Harry said hurriedly.

"Sure it is! Don't worry, though. I promise the nostalgia will wear off - tell you what, tomorrow we're going to Hog's Head with Neville!" He proceeded to prance around the kitchen like a schoolgirl in a new dress, and Harry's arguments were entirely futile.

_xxx_

"Goodbye, sweetie, we'll miss you!"

Dean Thomas mumbled something in reply, feeling very much as if his aunt's behavior was more appropriate to seeing him off to his first day of school than the actual state of affairs. He was twenty-three, moving two towns away, and had stayed only a week at his aunt's while things like finances and leases were sorted out. Whether or not this warranted the emotional farewell that Narcissa Malfoy was producing was clearly controversial.

"See you," his cousin Draco said, fist-bumping him. "We'll stay in touch. And remember - if you run into a bird named Hermione Granger, give her hell for me." This was perhaps the third time he'd made such a statement; having discovered that Dean was moving to his - and Hermione's - hometown, his grudge against her for punching him in the face when they were thirteen had resurfaced tenfold.

Dean chuckled. "Will do," he said. "I'll miss you, mate."

"You too."

_xxx_

"Excuse me," Dean said somewhat crossly to the person in front of him. He was standing in line at a cafe and was positively ravenous, a fact made worse by the snail's pace at which the queue was advancing.

"Sorry? I can't exactly do anything about this, you know, and by the way, you're stepping on my feet."

This retort was unexpected, and Dean felt bad. "Sorry. I'm just a bit frazzled."

The woman turned around. She was brown-eyed, red-haired, and extremely attractive. Choking slightly, he extended a hand.

"Dean Thomas."

"Ginny Weasley. I apologize for, er, you know. Being rude and abrasive."

"No problem. Everyone seems to be at odds today."

"Yeah," she said, then took a few steps forward.

"So...are you from around here?" he asked, and she faced him again, looking momentarily surprised.

"Yeah, I'm a senior. Not sure what I'll be doing next year; I really like my life right now. Got a great roommate, and all."

"Cool, yeah, I've just moved here today, actually."

"Cool."

They progressed through the queue in this manner, spurts of conversation and awkward silences, until 20 minutes later Ginny had warmed considerably to the earnest, handsome bloke.

"If you need help moving or anything, give me a ring," she said before placing her order. "Here." Pressing a slip of paper with her number on it into his hand, she asked for a ham and cheese sandwich and decaf latte.

Dean stopped her as she reached into her purse. "Don't bother," he said, flashing a lopsided grin that made breathing rather more difficult on her part. "I've got this. Consider it an apology for snapping at you."

"Oh, you don't have to -"

"I do." He winked, told the cashier to charge both of their orders to his card, and left the cafe, waving over his shoulder.

Ginny ate her sandwich, drank her coffee, and skipped outside to call Hermione, who, as best friends do, squealed and gushed equally as much over this newest addition to her endless stream of admirers.

_xxx_

"Why did you wait so long to tell me?" demanded Harry. He and Hermione were bickering in the kitchen. Ron had gone out for groceries, as tonight was their biweekly home cooked meal date, which really made them sound like mid-forties housewives but was actually quite fun. That is, when they weren't accidentally stabbing each other with knives whilst engaging in a heated and juvenile fencing duel (Ron and Harry), or arguing over the evenness of tomato slices (Hermione got slightly anal retentive about uniform tomato slice thickness), or making critical remarks to each other (Hermione and Harry; the former tended to start on insistent "don't you see? Isn't it obvious?" diatribes until the latter was seething with anger).

Hermione cried indignantly, "Because I thought it didn't matter to you! You said already that you don't fancy her, so why should Dean make any difference?"

"Because - because -" sputtered Harry. His friend looked at him in a mixture of exasperation and fondness.

"Look. I warned you about this in the library, didn't I? Said she might meet someone else. She won't be around forever, and you need to sort out what you're going to do between now and whenever things change. Except the thing is, they already have. We aren't in high school anymore, you know. Ginny isn't always a phone call or Skype session away. She's got her own life, and she's bound to move on eventually. And 'eventually' would appear to start right about now."

"Yes, but..." Harry fiddled with a carrot peeler on the counter, saying nothing. Finally, his shoulders slumped, and he said glumly, "You're right."

"I know," replied Hermione, but her complacent smirk lasted only a moment. "So...what do you plan to do? Win her over?"

"Can't do, can I? She's already gone on how many dates?"

"Seven," Hermione said softly.

"Seven," Harry repeated bitterly. He crossed his arms and glared at the windowsill. "She's really hitting it off with this Dean character, then. Right, well, I suppose all I can do is wait it out, yeah?"

"If being passive and avoidant is your solution to everything - and based on your track record, it is" - "Thanks, Hermione," grumbled Harry - "then yeah, you can only wait it out."

"So are there any other bombs you'd like to drop on me?" he asked jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. His best friend was having none of that, as she only sighed and bit her lip in thought. "Oh god," he said, "I know that face, thats your moral conflict face. You're conflicted. God dammit, what are you conflicted about?"

"It's just, I don't know if this is the right time to tell you, but I thought I would mention...Dean's coming for dinner this Saturday evening."

He gaped at her. "_What?_"

She twisted her hands together, looking supremely guilty. "I'm sorry, it's just that Ginny's been raving so much about him and she's so eager for us to meet him that I just ended up offering to have him over."

"Oh."

"If it really bothers you..."

"No, no, it's fine. Why should it bother me?"

"Harry..." The concern in her voice was simultaneously touching and incredibly obnoxious.

"It's fine, Hermione."

"I really could -"

"_Hermione._"

"Ginny wants you to come."

"Of course she does. You know, this is _my_ house, but it's great that she's inviting me over."

"Stop it. She wants you to come, she told me specifically. She thinks you'll like him."

"Right. Yeah, no, it'll be great."

Ron breezed in with two paper bags stuffed with vegetables and cooking supplies, which he placed on the table. "They were out of zucchini, so I got yellow squash instead. And the pasta was buy one get one half off, so I got two, but we can put a pack in the pantry for later."

"Okay," said Hermione, smiling at him as if nothing was wrong. She gave Harry one last searching look and bustled off to track down an elusive saucepan.


	3. Coming Back

_Summary - _AU. Harry Potter lives an ordinary post-college, non-magical life. Everything is hunky dory until he realizes that he's got feelings for none other than the sister of his roommate, Ron Weasley. Moreover, she's just been swept off her feet by handsome Dean Thomas, who happens to have a grudge against Harry and Ron ever since their best friend, Hermione, punched his cousin (Draco Malfoy) in the face. Contains H/G, R/H, fluff, angst, and a fairly engaging plot line, if I do say so myself.

_Disclaimer - _I regret to inform you that I am not, cannot, and, unless science makes some major technological advances, will never be JK Rowling. In the meantime, I'll speak in a fake British accent and force the kids I babysit to read Harry Potter even if it's past their bedtime and for once they actually want to go to sleep. At any rate, I own none of the characters, terms, references, or places aside from ones I create and my storyline. Alright, I'm done. R&R! Also, while I wish I had half the artistic ability of the people who are part of DeviantArt, I do not, and the cover photo is credited to user **~myavi** on said site.

_Author's note - _Thank you thank you thank you. Your reviews make my heart feel happy. If any of you would like to request certain ships, please do so in the comments and I'll work those into the fic. Clearly H/G and R/H are already taken, but you can ship any of the other characters (even ones that haven't been introduced yet) with anybody else that you'd like.

_x_

_Chapter Three: Coming Back_

Dean's phone rang just as he was dragging the last box into his new apartment. "Hi, mate," he said cheerfully. "What's up?"

Draco sighed. "Nothing, Mum's going on about missing you. How goes the moving?"

"All done. Which means I get to start unpacking for the next, what, decade?" He flopped onto the couch, not bothering to remove its plastic wrapping, and switched the phone to his other ear as he flipped through a binder of notes.

"Ah. Made any friends yet?"

"As a matter of fact, yes!"

"Do tell."

"Her name's Ginny Weasley, she's a senior in college, and we've been on seven dates."

"What! Congrats, man!"

"Thanks. She's really nice."

"Cute?"

"Excessively."

"Smart?"

"Acing all her courses."

"No deep dark secrets?"

"Doubtful. I'm having dinner with her roommate, brother, and brother's roommate on Saturday."

"Is that like meeting her parents?"

"Not sure. She has a pretty tight-knit family from my understanding, but I also know she's incredibly close with all her friends - you would not _believe_ how popular she is - so chances are they'll be judgmental and over protective."

"Cynical much?"

"I prefer 'realistic,' thank you." They laughed. "I'm kind of excited to meet them, actually. Her brother likes football, she's raved about her brother's roommate, and her own roommate is apparently this, like, super studious genius with a top-notch job at a publishing company. Little nervous, to be honest."

"Understandable. I've been on a few dates myself, recently."

"Oh really?" Dean tossed the binder carelessly on top of a nearby box.

"Pansy Parkinson. She works at a candy shop."

"Nice, nice. What's she like?"

He could practically hear his cousin's nose wrinkling up in disgust. "Personally, I don't like her too much."

"And you're dating her because?"

There was a long pause on Draco's end of the line. "Because free candy, okay?"

At this he began cracking up hysterically, and his sheepish cousin soon joined in. They chatted amicably about this and that for another 20 minutes, until Draco had to go for dinner, leaving Dean staring at a mass of cardboard, styrofoam, and packing peanuts.

_xxx_

"Hi," Ron said, picking his way through stacks of textbooks and novels. "Ginny around?"

Hermione looked up and blanched slightly. "Er, no. She's out with Dean." She coughed, touching the rim of her large tortoiseshell reading glasses self-consciously. "It's late."

"It's eight."

"Yeah, but I'm all ready for bed and I -" She put a hand to her face, distressed. "I'm in my pajamas and I don't look..."

"Oh, shut up," said Ron. "You're beautiful. And also secretly ninety years old. Who gets ready for bed this early on a Friday night anyway?"

Choosing to gloss over the first comment as smoothly as he had, Hermione gave him a little shove. Accordingly, Ron perched on the edge of her desk and poked her cheek repeatedly. "Cut it out, Ronald. I'm trying to work."

This spurred a bout of footsie, culminating in him almost whacking her laptop off the table and her shrieking and punching him soundly in the stomach.

"So, ready for tomorrow?" Hermione asked when they'd finally settled on a truce and he'd convinced her to abandon work for the night.

"What's tomorrow?" he asked stupidly, somewhat distracted; she had just taken a seat on the sofa next to him, and their legs were touching, and she smelled good, and her hair was so pretty when it was all frizzy and plaited like that, and what in the world was stopping him from just -

"Ron?"

"Sorry, what?"

"The big dinner. With Dean. And Ginny."

"Oh, that. Not much to get ready, is there? Just my shotgun, in case I decide Dean's not worthy of my annoying baby sister's attentions."

Hermione laughed, gazing at him a little too long. "She's not your baby sister, you know. She's - well, for starters she's only a year behind all of us. And she's got more brains than I have."

"Wait. Stop."

She looked at him quizzically.

"You seriously think Ginny's got more brains than you?"

"Oh. Um, doesn't she? It's fine," she said quickly, "really, I understand that, like, not everyone can be the next Einstein, but, like, Ginny is _really_ smart and truth be told, I do get jealous sometimes. Tiny bit of a roommate complex, I reckon. Of course I love her; she's like my sister," she added hastily, "but, um, yeah. So...it's not a big deal though, I really don't mind it at all." Ron didn't say anything. "Right. I sound terribly insecure, and you know I despise talking about these things, and - do you - what were you coming over for? Did you say something about Ginny?"

He was staring at her incredulously. "Hermione. You're the most effing brilliant person I know, and Harry could easily vouch for that, as could any and all of your professors and teachers throughout the years. I promise. I love Ginny too, but she's - she's a different kind of smart." He swallowed. "I have never met anyone so incredibly intelligent in all areas of life, and -"

The door flew open and Ginny declared loudly, "I THINK I'M IN LOVE!"

So that put a bit of a damper on things.

Hermione stood up immediately, refusing to look at Ron.

"I take it the date went well?" she asked.

"_So_ well," said Ginny ecstatically. "He's just _such_ a gentleman, and he's so nice, and attractive, and we may have had some physical - oh, hello, Ron."

"Hi," he said weakly, having made a squelching noise when she began to say the word "physical."

"Is this a bad time?" Ginny asked, and comprehension dawned as she looked from Hermione to her brother. "Oh my _gosh,_ am I interrupting something?" With a little gasp she started contritely, "I am so, so sorry, I didn't mean to walk in like that, it's just, Ron - what are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you, actually," he said a bit gloomily. "Harry's not around, and I was wondering if you fancied visiting Mum and the twins and Bill next week. She managed to email me; Dad really wants to see us. It should be really good."

"Oh, sure," she replied dismissively. Then, in an unconvincingly casual voice, "Where's Harry?"

"He's spending the night with someone," Ron said nonchalantly.

Both girls said sharply, "_What?_"

Realizing his mistake, Ron's ears flushed scarlet. "No, not like that! He just decided to go on a little weekend trip up to stay with some old friend from - I actually wasn't listening too well when he explained it to me. At any rate, he's gone til Monday."

"But the dinner's tomorrow night!" cried Hermione. "Ginny, I'm so sorry, I'll call him -"

"No," she said somewhat flatly. "He knew this was coming up, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did."

"Exactly." It was as if someone had just deflated her completely: now she sat hunched over, picking at the hem of her dress. "Well, it is what it is. I'll leave you two to it." And with that she stood up and trudged sadly to her room, leaving Ron utterly flummoxed because frankly, no one ever told him anything.

_xxx_

Harry sat in a long line of traffic, feeling guilty. No matter how hard he tried, and how loudly he blasted the radio, and how many football games he watched, he could not get stupid Ginny Weasley out of his head.

It was on a whim that he'd sent an email to Colin Creevey. Colin was a kind young man, if slightly obsessed with Harry for no discernable reason, and by the end of high school they had become very good friends. Then they'd parted ways and Harry never planned to see him again. Until now.

This was pathetic, wasn't it? He was resorting to trips like these, _people_ like these (not to discredit Colin, of course), to do what? Avoid this bloody dinner with bloody Dean Thomas? Right on cue, his phone vibrated. It was a text from Hermione.

**Harry. Avoiding is no way to deal with your emotions. Trust me. Please come back. Ginny needs you more than you know.**

Really, only Hermione would say something like this, and Harry was an idiot if he didn't listen to _that_ sort of text. Staring indecisively at the white lines that so evenly marked the lanes of the highway - and rather wishing that his love life was as evenly marked - he pulled to the side, dialed Colin's number, and cancelled their visit.

_xxx_

Hermione came and sat on Ginny's bed after Ron left. Ginny's brow was furrowed; she did not take notice of her friend for a bit and merely continued to swipe through photos on Instagram. Eventually she turned her phone off and threw it to the side, then curled up in a position that somehow resembled a cat. She'd removed all her makeup, washed her hair, and pushed it into a tangled bun; auburn strands fell against her worn thermal shirt.

"Why won't he come?" she asked, and sounded so vulnerable that Hermione had half a mind to wrap her up in a blanket with a mug of warm milk and slice of toast, as if she was home sick from the first grade.

"I don't know," Hermione replied, taking Ginny's hand and squeezing it. "Boys are complicated."

Ginny stared up at the ceiling. "Not Ron. He likes you."

Hermione shut her eyes for a few seconds before saying sadly, "I know."

Leaning up on her elbows, Ginny asked, "Well then why don't you - ?"

"There's a long list of reasons for that. Let's not get into it. Listen, I texted Harry, okay? And maybe it will register with him, and maybe it won't, but he knows that he has to come to the dinner."

"Yes, but why doesn't he want to? Dean's so _nice_."

"That could be why."

"What do you mean?"

Hermione struggled with herself for a moment. "I don't know. I just think that sometimes there's more to things, and people, and relationships, and feelings, than what shows on the surface."

"Is it that he doesn't like me?"

"_What? _Are you mad? Ginny, of course he likes you! He more than - he likes you. Why is this so upsetting, anyway?"

"It's not. I mean, it shouldn't be. I just...I literally _don't_ understand why he's being like this. We were great, he's one of my best friends, and now?" She snapped her fingers. "Gone. Like that. Who's he even off to see?"

"Er - I don't know. Does it even matter?"

"No. No, that's stupid. He's - he can see whoever he wants to see."

"Yeah. Hold on." Still looking at her in concern, Hermione reached into her pocket for her mobile, which had just buzzed. Text from Harry.

**Coming back.**

With a wide grin, she tapped Ginny's shoulder. "He's coming."

Ginny's smile could light up a stadium. She jumped up, throwing her arms around Hermione. "Really?"

"Really."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Ginny nodded enthusiastically to no one in particular, then turned excitedly to Hermione. "So what's going on with you and Ron?"

Hermione groaned. "Please. I don't want to talk about that right now."

"Fine. Just so you know, I'm placing you two next to each other at the dinner."

"Better not mention that to Harry, he got pretty miffed when I implied that you'd be running the show. It's his flat, and everything."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "God. Boys. Am I right?" She flopped happily onto her back. "Dean's so perfect, Hermione. Really. Tonight he..."

Hermione nodded politely as Ginny recounted her oh-so-romantic date, but thoughts of Ron continued to spiral in her head. She thought of everything that she'd said to Ginny, everything she'd told herself, the text she just sent to Harry, and wondered why she had to be so goddamn practical.

_xxx_

The problem with Dean was that he was so utterly likable that it was impossible to hate him, no matter how much Harry wanted to. Resent him, yes. Dislike him? Not in a million years. For starters, he showed up before the others to say hello, rather than waltzing in on Ginny's arm as Harry had expected.

The ring of the doorbell startled both members of the apartment; Ron swore and cut himself shaving, while Harry almost knocked himself out with the blow dryer. They were so used to friends and family coming in without warning - either using the poorly hidden key, their own key, or knocking while they walked inside to chide one of the boys for not locking up at night - that they rarely, if ever, heard the sound.

"Coming!" called Harry, chaotically sweeping out of the way of bags of groceries, which, in a fit of boredom, he and Ron had utilized in setting up an obstacle course, and all but ran full force into the wall. Righting himself and yelling at Ron to tidy up, for heaven's sake, they had company, he opened the door.

"Hi," said Dean. "I've brought some beer?"

"What?"

"Oh, sorry. Are you Ginny's brother?"

"No," Harry said, repressing the urge to ask, _Are you thick?_

"Duh, sorry. There's clearly no resemblance. I'm - I'm a bit nervous, actually, so I thought I'd pop in early if you don't mind. Like I said, I've brought beers."

"Oh. Right. Uh, come in. Ron!"

Ron came barrelling out of the bathroom. "Who is it?"

"Dean Thomas," Dean said. "How's it going?"

"Good." Ron looked him over critically. "You're Ginny's boyfriend, now?"

"Er, yeah. And you're her brother?"

"Yeah. Ron Weasley. Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"I'm Harry, Harry Potter," said Harry helpfully.

"Cool, mate. You've got a great place, I didn't know it was humanly possible to keep a flat this neat when two blokes are living together." He chuckled. "I'm impressed."

"Well, it's mainly thanks to Ron's mum," admitted Harry. "If it weren't for her, you'd probably be standing in a pigsty right now."

"What, you mean like my room?"

They all laughed at this, and fell into conversation easily, and as much as Harry hated himself for it, he found that he really bloody liked bloody Dean Thomas.

_xxx_

"You nervous?" Ron asked in an undertone. It was the first time he'd acknowledged that Harry was anything less than stoked about the dinner.

"Yeah, thanks," Harry replied, surprised. "I mean, yeah, I am."

"It'll be fine." Ron looked a bit pale himself, and presently he seized Harry by the shoulders, shaking him roughly. "Harry, why are we so socially awkward?"

"I - I don't know. We're social. Remember Neville? We hung out with him. That was fun. Right?"

"I'm literally trembling."

"Oh, you're just anxious about seeing Hermione."

"_What?_"

"Or not. Sorry. Forgot that topic was taboo around here."

"We're just friends, Harry. And it was totally -"

"- Her idea," finished Harry. "I'm quite aware."

"I was _going_ to say 'mutual,' as a matter of fact." Harry raised an eyebrow. "But, yeah, it was totally her idea."

"Right."

Dean shouted, "They're here!" and Ron gave a little whimper.

"It's fine," Harry hissed as he glimpsed Ginny's figure and heard her laugh. "Pull it together."

"You talking to me?"

"I'm not sure."

"Okay, okay, this is stupid, this is dinner, this is a dinner party, we're mature adults, I'm not going to scream, Hermione and I are just friends, and Dean's niceness isn't creepy. We can - we can do this, Harry."

"Yes, of course."

"Ready?"

"It's showtime."


	4. Not Now, Not Ever

_Summary - _AU. Harry Potter lives an ordinary post-college, non-magical life. Everything is hunky dory until he realizes that he's got feelings for none other than the sister of his roommate, Ron Weasley. Moreover, she's just been swept off her feet by handsome Dean Thomas, who happens to have a grudge against Harry and Ron ever since their best friend, Hermione, punched his cousin (Draco Malfoy) in the face. Contains H/G, R/H, fluff, angst, and a fairly engaging plot line, if I do say so myself.

_Disclaimer - _I regret to inform you that I am not, cannot, and, unless science makes some major technological advances, will never be JK Rowling. I own none of the characters, terms, references, or places aside from ones I create and my storyline, you know the drill, R&R! Also, while I wish I had half the artistic ability of the people who are part of DeviantArt, I do not, and the cover photo is credited to user **~myavi** on said site.

_Author's note - _ As usual, every review I get makes me feel like a rockstar, particularly since the Harry Potter fandom on FanFiction is so huge and it's difficult to get noticed. As a disclaimer, I just want to emphasize that this _is_ a T-rated fic for language and more mature themes (not ones that I think necessitate an M rating though), and this chapter contains more than others have. So, reader's discretion is advised. Anyhow, hope you enjoy this chapter. I have chosen to develop Draco as a more sympathetic character, mainly drawing from the moments in HBP and DH where he is clearly in a miserable, unfair position, for which his father is partially responsible. Never fear, more fluff is on the way, but I want this to be well rounded - angst _and_ an interesting plot. R&R away!

_x_

_Chapter Four: Not Now, Not Ever_

Ginny and Hermione arrived right on time. Both were clothed very nicely, the former in a pair of dark red trousers and a flowy white top, the latter in a fitted chambray dress. Before anybody could say a word, however, Ginny swept over to them and said excitedly,

"So we were at the library."

Hermione breezed in, looking disgruntled. "Ginny, it's _not_ funny."

"Yes it is." To emphasize this very fact, she gave a gleeful little chortle. "So we were at the library, and there's this bloke who's there all the time, and he and his mates were gawking at her, but they couldn't remember her name, right? And I guess they wanted her attention, because they kept pointing and snickering, and finally one of them called out, 'Oi, Egghead!'"

"This is true," said Hermione, sighing woefully. "Let's speak no more of it, okay?"

"No, no, because now we all have to call you Egghead." Ginny dissolved in giggles against the counter.

"Wow," said Harry, smiling a bit too widely at her. "You are getting a _lot_ of amusement out of this."

"I know, I know, it's just - _Egghead._"

"Hilarious," Hermione said sardonically.

"Where's Dean?" Ginny asked, standing in the middle of the kitchen and twirling around happily.

"Loo." Ron jerked his head in the direction of the bathroom. "Why don't you go introduce him to Hermione?"

"Egghead," Ginny said firmly, skipping off to find him. Hermione groaned in exasperation and followed her.

"Your sister's in a good mood," observed Harry.

"Yeah. Who d'you reckon those guys were? You know, at the library."

"Good lord, you're not going to get jealous over _that_, are you?"

"No! I'm just wondering."

"Sure."

"Stop looking at me like that."

"I'm not looking at you like anything!"

"Sure."

_xxx_

And so it was that Dean first knew Hermione as "Egghead," and though he attempted to find out her real name, humoring his girlfriend seemed to trump all, so he gave up. A few glasses of wine and jovial discussions later led to the rest of the lot calling her by said nickname, and dinner was wholly enjoyable.

Harry, for his part, put up a valiant fight against liking Ginny's new boyfriend. Yet the more he wrestled with himself internally, the worse he felt. If he liked her, shouldn't he want her to be happy with whoever she was going to be with? As much as he hated to admit it, if anyone was to deserve Ginny, it was someone like Dean Thomas. Not to mention that their chemistry, while sickening on a subjective level, was remarkably apparent on an objective one. The couple interacted far less than he'd braced himself for: they did not cling excessively to one another and mingled easily with the group. They were perfect, and he would have to deal with it.

Ironically, as the night progressed it turned out that he and Dean had the most in common out of everyone (including, Harry thought privately, their interest in a particular redhead), and oftentimes became so engaged in conversation that he almost forgot to resent the genial, good-looking chap. Almost. But then Ginny would kiss him on the cheek or lean her head on his shoulder and he had to clamp his jaw shut so as not to say anything untoward.

Dean's girlfriend - that was how Harry determined to refer to her now, in his head - came over to him when he was refilling his drink; he nearly knocked her out with the fridge door.

"I'm really glad you came," she said, brushing aside his apology. "Really."

"What?" It should be illegal for anyone to have such beautiful brown eyes. "Oh. That. Er - no problem."

She was standing way too close to him for comfort, and he inched away ever so slightly as she said, "You don't have to answer, but why did you leave?"

"Why did I what? Oh, why did I leave? Well - Colin called me up, and I just totally - the dinner slipped my mind -"

"Harry. I know you knew it was today."

"Really?" He chuckled nervously. "Can I take the not-answering option?"

"Alright then, fair enough." Why on _earth _did she have to be so easy going, so likable? "Well, thanks, anyway. It means a lot to me, you know." She leaned in, catching him off guard, and wrapped her arms round his neck, letting go before he could appropriately respond. This caused a delayed reaction which was quite awkward; his hands fumbled about her waist after she'd ended the hug, and she inhaled sharply.

_Abort,_ he thought wildly. _Abort abort abort._ Coughing, he backed away as quickly as possible and all but sprinted to go find anybody and everybody who was not Ginny Weasley.

_xxx_

Draco frantically called Dean 12 times before remembering that he was at that damn dinner. His shoulders shook; suppressing the raw power of unshed tears was like trying to prevent a massive helium balloon from inflating, using only a pinky. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around himself in the damp air.

"Draco?"

It was the last voice he wanted to hear. "Mother," he said coolly.

"May I?"

They were sitting beneath an abandoned bridge, on a rusty metal bench. At his curt nod, she sat down.

"So this is where you run off to."

"This would be it."

"It's...nice." She shivered. "Bit chilly."

This was getting absurd. "Cut it out," he said irritably.

"Okay."

"Thank you."

A long silence stretched out between them. Narcissa started to say something, then stopped. Start stop start stop. This continued for awhile until Draco was about to go mental, and burst out,

"Just effing say whatever it is that you're trying to!"

"You know how much I love you -"

"No. Please don't go there."

Disregarding his protest, she continued, "I love you so much, Draco. You know I would do anything to keep you safe from harm."

"Yes," he answered shortly. He'd not bothered to tie his shoelaces when he fled the house, and they were now too muddied and tattered to see even the smallest gleam of white in the dark.

"And your father -"

"Don't," he said through gritted teeth. "Don't talk about him. Not now, not ever. I've heard enough of that. The past eight years, in fact - or don't you remember?"

His mother flinched. "Believe me, I don't want to talk about it any more than you do, but you can't keep doing this! You run away from home every time the tiniest thing upsets you -"

"The _tiniest_ thing?" He felt his hands tremble, felt the fury bubbling up. "How can you call Dad's situation _'tiny'? _Look, I've had to deal with him almost as long as you have. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm also twenty-three, not to mention the fact that I still live at home doing _nothing!_ Everyone's out there having a life, but me? No, I'm just sitting around, trapped by my _father's_ mistakes! Do you see me making money? Going to school? After I transferred, I got what, two more years of education before it happened and we had to call it off?"

"Sweetheart," murmured Narcissa, but she dared not touch her own son; so strong was his anger that she very much feared he might explode, and she did not want to be the recipient of that. Not again, not anymore.

"I'm done, Mum," he said bitterly, though the pulsing heat of his tone was gone. "I'd move in with Dean if I could, but it's not as if I've got happy memories of that place either. Dad ruined everything for me, every birthday, every school, every memory, every town, and I don't know what to do now."

Tentatively, she rested her hand on his knee. "It will be okay."

"I don't want to see him. I can't. I won't."

She repeated, "It will be okay."

"You can't make me see him! You can't effing make me - bloody hell." A tear streamed down his face. "You can't make me see him."

And she wrapped her arms around her shuddering son and whispered into his thin blonde hair, "It will be okay."

_xxx_

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dean, and Ginny sat on the back porch after their meal, talking happily.

All was going stupendously and they were planning to go to the cinema sometime when Ron said, "Hey, Hermione, can you grab my phone for me? It's in the kitchen."

She elbowed him gently. "Only if you keep using my real name. 'Egghead' is officially off limits from now on. No more. Not now, not ever."

"Fine," he said, and she stood.

"Where is it?"

"Um, I think I saw it last on the island by the fruit bowl."

She was moving to go inside when Dean got up abruptly, interrupting Harry in the midst of a rugby anecdote.

"Yes?" Hermione asked pleasantly. "Would you like me to get anything for you?"

"You're Hermione? Oh," he said stiffly.

"Er...is there a problem?"

"Hermione...Granger?"

"Dean," Ginny said sternly, laying a hand on his arm. "What are you doing?"

"Just a sec. You're - did you punch my cousin when you were thirteen?"

"_What?_"

"Draco Malfoy. He's my cousin. Did you - he said you punched him when he was thirteen, said that's why his parents made him transfer."

"Oh my god," Hermione said breathlessly. "I am so, so sorry. I - I had no idea that that was why he moved away."

"Is this the kind of company you hang out with, then?" Dean demanded of Ginny, while Hermione repeatedly apologized, to no avail.

"Oi, you can't judge her on that," protested Harry.

"Stay out of it, please. Ginny?"

"Dean, I...it was ten years ago! You have no idea the situation, you've no idea what he might have said or done to provoke it, and if you think he's so innocent then why don't you ask him what happened?"

"Oh. I see. So you have a grudge against Draco, even though _you're_ the one who hurt _him?_" He glared accusingly at Hermione. "That's messed up."

Granted, the group had an inherent hatred of the name, seeing as Malfoy had been quite awful to Harry and, by association, Ron and Hermione. He'd incessantly made fun of Harry for not having "proper" parents; this teasing quickly escalated into a deep rivalry between the two, ending when Draco said scathingly one day at recess that the only reason anybody pretended to like Harry was because they were forced to pity him. When Ron, dumbstruck, told him ineffectually that he was a "bleeding idiot," he got even by dubbing Harry an "attention-seeking prat."

Hermione decided to intervene at this point, snapping, "You're an utter cretin, Malfoy. Why don't you go off and gossip with your own friends - oh, wait, you don't _have_ any!"

Such unkindness was quite unprecedented for the goody two-shoes; the boys gaped at her, and they had momentarily triumphed over Draco until he snarled in turn that she was nothing but an "insufferable know-it-all," a "total nightmare," and ought to go eff herself because nobody else would.

The fact that they were thirteen made this behavior all the more shocking and deplorable, but when they related the story to Dean, he fell silent instantly, looking pained.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. Ginny gazed at him in concern, and took his hand in hers. Harry felt an unpleasant plummeting sensation in his stomach and then felt like a terrible person.

"You didn't know," whispered Hermione. "It's - I'm sorry. Not that it makes it any better, but I got in trouble too. I shouldn't have done that, I was just so fed up with his behavior."

"Okay," Dean replied flatly.

"Well I don't understand how you can possibly still blame Hermione," Ron said crossly. "It was clearly Draco's fault. I know he's your cousin and all, mate, but he's the one who messed up."

"He probably had his reasons." Dean stared down at his lap. "I'm sorry that he did that, just please don't pin the blame on him."

"_Excuse me?_" asked Ron indignantly. "He's the one who, if I recall, _started_ the entire todo?"

"Yes, but Hermione chose to retaliate," Dean pointed out.

"And he bloody deserved it!" said Ron, loudly and heatedly.

"Ron -"

"No, Hermione, Dean has no reason to be such an arse! This was years ago, why does it even matter?"

"I'm just saying," Dean said through clenched teeth, "that you oughtn't to think badly of my cousin, or blame that whole incident on him."

"Are you _mad?_" cried Ron. "How are you making Hermione out to be this utter -"

Harry watched Ginny retreat into her chair, face paling as she watched her evening go down the drain. They made brief eye contact; she mouthed, _Help me,_ and Harry nodded instantly. He wanted nothing more than to sit next to her, to be exactly in Dean's position, but he couldn't think those thoughts. Not now, not ever.

"Oi - you lot - this seems a bit childish, yeah?" he asked. "What say we head back inside, maybe pop in a movie, and...?"

Ron put up a hand. "Hold on."

"Ronald!" Hermione finally yelled in agitation. "You don't need to defend me! Dean's clearly on his cousin's side, and honestly, Harry's right: I did that to Draco ages ago, why should it matter now?"

"Because - well, look at Ginny," said Ron. "You've ruined it for her."

"Stop it, Ron," snapped Ginny. "Dean?"

He turned to her uncertainly. "I'm sorry, I just - I can't handle being around people who are going to hate on my cousin. I can't."

"I'm not hating on him," she said quietly.

"You aren't defending him, though, are you?" started Dean, when Harry took three steps toward him swiftly and said very firmly,

"Don't get her involved. She hasn't done anything wrong."

Dean exhaled slowly. "You're right. Sorry, Gin."

She waved it off, and whispered, "Thank you" to Harry when he came back to stand beside her.

"I'm sorry," Ron said gruffly, after a pregnant pause. "I may have overreacted."

Hermione crossed her arms stonily. "There's the understatement of the century."

"Are you mad at _me?_" Ron asked incredulously.

Ginny interrupted in frustration, "Dean - I just don't understand why you're so defensive of him!"

"Me neither, to be honest," Hermione concurred, and Harry had to agree.

"Exactly," Ron said, getting fired up again. "Do you want to tell us why you're being such a prat, or...?"

Dean's face had become quite contorted as they launched this verbal attack, and he began to visibly quiver. It took Hermione's comment that, "You really have no reason to side with Malfoy, you know, so I don't understand why -" for him to hit the roof.

"BECAUSE HE'S GOT AN ABUSIVE ALCOHOLIC DAD WHO'S IN PRISON FOR ATTEMPTED ASSAULT!" Dean shouted.

And there was nothing, really, that anybody could say after that.

x

_Author's note, pt. 2 - _Alright, so that was a bit intense. I know you all may have been expecting a Harry-Dean stand off - but I thought Dean befriending Harry, and Harry having mixed feelings about this, would make things a bit more interesting. Again, I chose to integrate the whole Malfoy-Voldemort-Lucius conflict (not really conflict, but I don't know what else to call it when he's pressured by Voldemort thanks to his father's involvement with the Death Eaters). Ron being so defensive of Hermione is a trait I think people often overlook; he will do anything to defend her honor, even if she insists that she's fine. Hope you enjoyed and this didn't get too angst-ridden for you. R&R, more is coming soon - I'm writing as fast as I can! Thank you for all your support.


	5. The Perils of Overhearing

_Summary - _AU. Harry Potter lives an ordinary post-college, non-magical life. Everything is hunky dory until he realizes that he's got feelings for none other than the sister of his roommate, Ron Weasley. Moreover, she's just been swept off her feet by handsome Dean Thomas, who happens to have a grudge against Harry and Ron ever since their best friend, Hermione, punched his cousin (Draco Malfoy) in the face. Contains H/G, R/H, fluff, angst, and a fairly engaging plot line, if I do say so myself.

_Disclaimer - _I regret to inform you that I am not, cannot, and, unless science makes some major technological advances, will never be JK Rowling. I own none of the characters, terms, references, or places aside from ones I create and my storyline, you know the drill, R&R! Also, while I wish I had half the artistic ability of the people who are part of DeviantArt, I do not, and the cover photo is credited to user **~myavi** on said site.

_Author's note - _So, I have to admit that establishing a location was not my strong suit in starting this fic. I've never been to Britain, so I was loathe to try to write as if I had any knowledge, and instead chose to make references rather vague. However, some very valid questions have been raised, and I hope I can clear them up. For now, let's assume that this does take place in Britain, but may use American references and school systems. I take liberties with the fact that this is AU, what can I say. As always, thank you for the reviews, and keep them coming!

_x_

_Chapter Five: The Perils of Overhearing_

"Hey," said Ginny.

Dean swallowed, refusing to look at her. "Don't hate me."

"No, I could never." Ginny leaned against the car next to him. "I had no idea. None of us did. That explains - that explains a lot."

"He wasn't malicious. He knew those words because those were things his dad said to him."

"I know. Is there anything we can do?"

"No."

"Well, at any rate, we're all so sorry. Honestly. Ron feels awful, he's just - well, you've seen him with Hermione. He'll defend her at any cost, it's sort of crazy."

"Isn't it bad that your brother hates me?"

"No, Dean, stop it. He doesn't hate you. In fact, everyone really, _really_ likes you."

"Really."

"Including Harry," she added, more to herself than to anyone. "You and Harry - you guys hit it off." Ginny could not decide how she felt about this, and at the moment that could not be her priority.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Hm, alright."

They stared up at the sky, inky indigo velvet studded here and there by barely perceivable stars.

Out of the blue, Dean said earnestly, "I like you a great deal," and Ginny laughed.

"I like you very much as well," she responded; he turned to gaze at her, and there were no words to describe the expression in his eyes, or the feeling it gave her.

"I'm glad," he said softly.

"It will be okay," she whispered. "It will. By tomorrow everything will have blown over and they _do_ like you, I know they do. This was all just a huge fluke and it's no one's fault."

He shrugged. Ginny grinned.

"Well, maybe Ron's, a bit. He's my brother, you know, but sometimes I can't shake this feeling that he's got the emotional maturity of a five year old."

Dean gave a reluctant chuckle at this statement, then sighed. "I'd better get going."

He drew her against his chest, notching his chin above her head, and rested his lips briefly on her temple.

"See you later?"

There was something very sad about the way he unlocked the door and slipped inside, hands drifting to the wheel at ten and two, and Ginny reached out impulsively, touching his arm.

"What is it?"

"Wait," she said, and leaned forward, cupping his chin in her hands. She kissed him tenderly, apologetically, and his arms came up, buried in her long, sweet smelling hair.

"Thank you," he said huskily. She smiled, and traced a heart in the circle of his palm, closing his fingers gently over it.

As he pulled out of the driveway, she stayed there, watching until the headlights faded, before turning to go back inside.

Harry stood in the doorway, had been there the entire time, and thought he felt his heart break a little.

_xxx_

Sure enough, business proceeded as usual the following morning. Ron texted Dean a proper apology - "You don't have the decency to at least _call?_" Hermione said scathingly; she was, admittedly, still rather cross with Ron's over protectiveness - which he accepted graciously.

Nobody mentioned the startling new revelation regarding Draco's family situation, though at times it seemed the elephant in the room. Neville dropped in unexpectedly, having been let off early from work, and asked what they'd been up to.

Glancing furtively at Harry, Ron said, "Oh, you know...just hanging out, really. We met Ginny's new boyfriend, Dean Thomas, the other day."

"Really? Is he nice?"

"Ridiculously," replied Harry. "He's - he's pretty awesome."

"Agreed. But get this - he's related to Draco Malfoy!" Ron waited eagerly for Neville's response.

"Wha - _Draco? _Draco _Malfoy?_ As in, _the_ Draco Malfoy? Yikes. Lucky he wasn't there for dinner, or else there would've been a major showdown."

"As a matter of fact -" Ron began to say.

Harry coughed, shaking his head subtly, and said, "Draco, uh, had mentioned us to Dean before. Just, you know, that we were old classmates of his."

"And he didn't know Hermione...?"

"No," both men said adamantly. "He had no idea."

_xxx_

Dean asked Harry to his place a few days later. With some trepidation, Harry agreed, and showed up sometime after noon.

"Hi," he said cautiously, maneuvering his way through a maze of bubble wrap and haphazardly scattered boxes in various stages of unpacking.

"Harry! Hey, mate! Come on in, if you can manage."

"It's fairly messy," Harry commented.

Dean appeared, wiping his face with a towel. His hair was still wet (he'd presumably just gotten out of the shower) and he had a speck of toothpaste on the edge of his mouth. Despite his frowzy looks, he somehow managed to appear charming, which Harry observed in some acrimony.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, take a seat! Sorry, late morning, Ginny's only just left."

So Ginny had spent the night here. Well, that was to be expected. They were mature adults in a mature relationship. Harry did not feel very mature. He felt annoyed.

"I don't really have anything exciting to say," Dean continued, pushing aside a pile of crumpled up parchment paper, "but I just wanted to hang out with you, y'know, without the others. Between you and me, I like you. Ron seems slightly..."

"Slightly aggrieved, yeah, when it comes to you. It's not personal; he's been like that with almost all of Ginny's boyfriends." Which was one of the top reasons he could not afford to ask her out, assuming he would even be able to muster up the courage.

"Exactly. Anyway, what's up with you? Anything exciting?"

"Not particularly."

If it was awkward, Dean did not notice, and continued cheerily, "Well, I've gotten a bit more settled now - emphasis on a _bit_ - appearances notwithstanding."

"I'm sure. Don't worry about appearances, Hermione and Ron's mum are the only reasons we're not buried under piles of remote controls and dirty laundry. How is it adjusting here? Must be different from what you're used to."

"Er - yeah. I'm finding my way around pretty well, thanks to Ginny."

"Mm-hm."

"You and Gin are good friends, no?"

"Me and Ginny? Oh, uh, I guess. You know, we basically grew up with each other. I'm technically an 'orphan,' and my home away from home was Ron's house and, by extension, Ginny's."

"Cool. So you're like her brother, yeah?"

Harry did not like this at all, but Dean was so well-meaning and anxious to please that he felt bad even feeling bad. "Sure," he said, feeling quite as if someone was strangling him.

"Awesome. She's a special one, that girl."

"I'd say," said Harry quietly.

Dean gave him a peculiar look now; panicking, Harry shrugged in what he hoped came across as indifference, and added,

"Well, you know. In a - in a sisterly way. She's like, you know. Like, I'm proud of her, I suppose."

The smile Dean flashed him was obnoxiously sincere. "I'm glad. So hey, what'd you say you majored in?"

"Behavioral science. And I have a masters in security studies."

"Ah. So you could be a spy, eh?"

Harry laughed. "Wishful thinking. I reckon I could, though."

"Nice, nice. What about Ron?"

"Well, neither of us have been particularly academic, but he studied food sciences in university. Now I think he's been entertaining the idea of going to work with his twin brothers, Fred and George. They've got this brilliant joke shop in London - it's actually quite popular, called Weasley's Wacky Wheezes. As yet, I don't have a job, so I basically sit around waiting for MI5 to knock on my door, right?"

"Makes sense. Ginny said that" - Harry winced; it would still take him awhile to get accustomed to hearing the way Dean said her name - "the twins, Fred and George? They're helping you out, financially."

This made him bristle. Granted, he and Ron were not the most independent young men out there, but Harry _had _done Fred and George quite a few favors over the year - bailing them out of jail and talking the police into clearing their names at three in the morning was one that remained a secret - and they had no problem lending "the lads," as they were affectionately called, a hand here and there. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley provided the bulk of their money, a source of perpetual guilt for Harry, who felt that he did not deserve such generosity. Hermione came over so often that half of their meals were cooked or at least aided by her (she acted as savior during a narrowly avoided bacon and eggs disaster), and the rest they could figure out on their own.

Still, the fact that everybody else seemed so self-sufficient did give him pause. Dean posing this question added insult to injury - what, did _he_ have his life all figured out too?

Trying not to sound miffed, Harry replied, "Well, kind of." Then, impulsively, "I'm looking into work, actually."

"Oh, really? What kind of work?"

"Er - you know, work. Jobs. Occupations. Professions." This was not going well. "It's up in the air right now."

"Understandable." Dean clearly knew that Harry had no idea what he was talking about, and he gave a little wink, as if to say, _I know you're a lying moron, but don't worry about it. I'm so incredibly nice that I'll let it slip._

"So!" Harry stood up, shifting uncomfortably. "You know, I'd better go, Hermione's car just broke down and I have to pick her up for a meeting in 20. It was great chatting, though - let's hang out again soon, okay?" Preferably without Ginny, and with Ron, for moral support. "You're always welcome over to our place, you know, watch a few games, drink some beers, all that jazz." He was halfway to the door now. "I'll see you later!"

"Right," said Dean, brow furrowing up. "Er - I'll text you."

Harry gave him a thumbs up, stumbled against a lamppost, righted himself, and left feeling embarrassed, stupid, and ever so peeved at Ginny's boyfriend's impeccable charisma.

_xxx_

When Harry returned to the flat, he ran straight into Ginny, who had a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

"Hi!" she said warmly. "You're coming, right?"

"Coming...where?"

"To visit Mum and Dad, 'course! Ron did invite you, didn't he?"

"Evidently not."

"Oh. Well, we're leaving in an hour, so you've plenty of time to get packed."

"I'm not - are you sure?"

"Yeah, silly! Don't you want to come?"

"It's a little last minute, but if you'll wait for me?"

"Ron's most likely to be holding us up, so I'd say you're in the clear." She rolled her eyes. "He's trying to resolve things with Hermione. Honestly, those two. _And,_" she continued, shoving her luggage into the boot, "he's acting as if us leaving for a week means he'll never see her again, or this is his last chance to gaze upon her face, or some nonsense."

"A week?"

"Oh, yeah, turns out it's more of a family reunion. Percy's current campaign's on hiatus; Charlie's been employed at a circus - he's a lion tamer, you know - so he's moving on from the zoo, and I guess we're en route; Bill wants us to meet his new French girlfriend (that'll be interesting), and the twins have been there a few days now." Having rattled this information off, she gestured to the open garage door. "Come with."

He followed her into the apartment, where, sure enough, they found Ron and Hermione engaged in conversation.

"...why you're so defensive of me," Hermione was saying as the other two came over. "I mean, it's really sweet and cute and all, but -"

"Hold on, what's that?"

"I said, it doesn't make sense that you're so -"

"No, the other thing."

"Should we let them be?" Harry whispered to Ginny, but they'd already been seen.

"Oh, hello," Ron said. "Er - Harry, I forgot to mention, you're invited..."

"Yep, Ginny told me. Way to drop the ball on that one, mate."

"Sorry. I left a suitcase open on your bedroom floor."

"Thanks."

Harry went off to pack his things, while Ron drove to the store to pick up snacks for the road. Ginny sat down next to Hermione.

"How come you're not coming?" she asked.

"Oh, I dunno. I can't really take time off from work right now, we're pressed for time and the system's been wonky, so everyone's gotten pretty tense. Plus, I'm their number one, and I've been ringing everywhere to get it fixed, not to mention dealing with some backorder crises and I'm starting to get behind too - I can't just up and leave now, can I?"

"Valid." Ginny paused. "It has nothing to do with Ron, right?"

Hermione gave an unconvincing snort. "Ha! Please. No, he and I are fine. I mean, he's - I was really ticked off, you know, when he pulled that whole thing at the dinner, and tried to drag me into it. It's fine now, but I guess, if I'm being honest, I feel...uncomfortable, around him. Right now. Just because, like, I don't know where he's coming from or what he wants and it's so unbelievably confusing and frustrating and aargh!" She buried her face in her hands, then took a deep breath and straightened up. "I'm fine. Really."

"You sure about that?"

"Completely. Just needed to let off some steam."

"Of course. But, for what it's worth, I think you two would be really good together."

Hermione threw her hands into the air. "This isn't bloody middle school, Ginny! We can't just be like, 'oh, I like you, you like me, let's date!' It's not like that anymore! No, now we have careers to think about, and lives that are a hundred times more real than they were when we were twelve, and social situations that are -"

"More important than being in love with your best friend?" Ginny interrupted.

"Well, yeah. I mean, no. I - you know I wasn't -"

Ginny scoffed. "Oh my god, don't even _try_ to deny that you're in love with him, you've told me already."

"I know, I know!" wailed Hermione. "It's just that they say change is so good, but nobody ever mentions how terrifying it is! What if we didn't -"

Ginny laid a hand on Hermione's arm. "Stop it. Listen. No one's pressuring you to jump into a full out serious relationship with my brother. Come to that, no one's pressuring you except yourself. Quit stressing and just let whatever's going to happen...happen."

"That's so much easier -"

"- said than done," finished Ginny, nodding. "I know. But with some things, you just kind of have to never give up. You know? Put it on the back burner if you're not ready yet, but if you really, really love Ron, and I think you do, just - just hold onto that." Her voice trailed off at the end and she looked inexplicably in the direction of Harry's room. Then she started and said briskly, "Anyway, come to Mum and Dad's if you think you can manage, we'd love to have you."

"Thanks, darling," Hermione said, pecking Ginny's cheek. "I really have to dash, though" - she grabbed her purse and car keys - "but thank you for putting up with me" - "Come off it, you know it's no bother," Ginny said, giving her a hug - "and I'll talk to you later, yeah?"

"See ya." Ginny waved her best friend off. She stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed contemplatively, when Ron burst in, causing her to give a little shriek and jump. "My _god_, Ronald!" she snapped. "Could you be any louder?"

"Yes. Where did Hermione go?"

"Back to work."

His face fell. "Oh. I was hoping to catch her before she left."

"Didn't you see her car drive off as you came in? Or are you too daft to put two and two together?" Ginny said somewhat testily.

"I can put two and two together," he said indignantly, "it's just that sometimes I get five." She only glared at him. "Get it? No? Not funny? Whoa, whoa - hey, Ginny, what's the matter?" He deposited three large plastic bags of junk food on the coffee table. "Something happen with Dean?"

"No, what are you talking about?"

"I know that look. You get that look anytime something bad happens with a guy."

"I do not!" she protested, trying to stalk off.

He grabbed her arm. "You're my little sister. I'm forbidden to let you go like that without nagging you about it."

"Ron, please. We're adults."

He grinned. "Barely. Come on, what's the trouble?"

"You just want me to be single the rest of my life, don't you?"

He shrugged. "That wouldn't be bad, but reality has to kick in at some point."

She groaned. "Nothing's happened with me and Dean."

"Are you sure? Because I remember you looked like that when you'd been planning to dump Michael Corner but hadn't told anyone, and after you'd been dumped yourself multiple times by whoever your eighth grade boyfriends were, and when you realized you weren't as infatuated with what's-his-face in eleventh grade...you're not having second thoughts about you and Dean, are you?"

"Of course not. That's ridiculous."

"Are you -"

"I'm perfectly sure, thank you, Ron." She reached for her wallet, but Ron swooped in and intercepted, grabbing it and holding it above his head.

"So how're you and Dean going to be while you're away?" he asked, watching in amusement as she jumped up and down trying to reach it. She was average height, and he was nearly 6'1", having experienced an unexpected growth spurt upon turning 18. "You can text, I suppose, and Skype."

"Are we _nine?_" Ginny huffed indignantly. "Didn't the game of 'Keep Away' fall slightly out of fashion once we'd lost all our baby teeth?"

"Answer the question," Ron said, smirking.

"Why are you so annoying? It's no wonder Hermione -" Ginny bit her tongue. She'd been about to make some teasing remark but had realized all too late that the woman was a sensitive subject. Too sensitive, even, to joke about with her big brother. "So," she said, turning serious and praying fervently that he wouldn't get upset, "yeah. Me and Dean. We're good, we've agreed to text, and Skype, and things, and really, we're doing wonderfully, he's really - he's an amazing guy."

"Good. He better be nice to you," said Ron gruffly, then chucked her wallet at her. "See you in the car."

"Well, that went well," muttered Ginny.

Harry stood in the hallway, having sprung protectively to his feet when he heard her yelp. _He's really - he's an amazing guy._ Well, if that was the case, and it clearly had been from the first day - why he couldn't bring himself to accept it stayed an utter mystery - then he would seriously have to prepare himself for a five-hour car ride in her company. And, come to that, he really needed to stop overhearing these things.


	6. Inevitable Reunions

_Summary - _AU. Harry Potter lives an ordinary post-college, non-magical life. Everything is hunky dory until he realizes that he's got feelings for none other than the sister of his roommate, Ron Weasley. Moreover, she's just been swept off her feet by handsome Dean Thomas, who happens to have a grudge against Harry and Ron ever since their best friend, Hermione, punched his cousin (Draco Malfoy) in the face. Contains H/G, R/H, fluff, angst, and a fairly engaging plot line, if I do say so myself.

_Disclaimer - _I regret to inform you that I am not, cannot, and, unless science makes some major technological advances, will never be JK Rowling. I own none of the characters, terms, references, or places aside from ones I create and my storyline, you know the drill, R&R! Also, while I wish I had half the artistic ability of the people who are part of DeviantArt, I do not, and the cover photo is credited to user **~myavi** on said site.

_Author's note - _As requested, some Neville/Luna. I've also updated to hopefully make the texts clearer, though it should be assumed, based on the different formats (I tried to distinguish between Hermione's texts and Ginny's simply by the way they text).

_x_

_Chapter Six: Reunions_

Neville was backing out of the supply shed, bearing a wheelbarrow and several pounds of soil, when he collided with someone.

"I'm sorry!" he cried; the impact had caused a sack of dirt to burst open, spewing its contents every which way.

"Its fine," the person said airily, turning around. Her silvery grey eyes widened as she looked at Neville. "I'm Luna, and you are...?"

"Neville Longbottom," said Neville. She was very pretty. "You're - you've got a bit of loam stuck to your - here, I'll get it."

She stopped swatting at her cheek and stiffened slightly as he leaned forward, brushing it off with his calloused, perpetually soiled fingers. "Thanks," she said, feeling out of breath. "Do you work here, then?"

"Yeah, just started this month," he replied, closing and locking the lean-to doors. Feeling bad, he set the wheelbarrow down and tossed a pair of gardening gloves onto the top of the heap. "You sure you're okay?"

Her jeans, which primarily consisted of colorful patterned patches, were now sprayed with soil, and her loose flowered tank top had turned slightly brown. "I'm fine," she said, smiling. "It's quite kind of you to stop, though. You'd better go work now, I think. I'll clean myself up later."

Neville had just opened his mouth to protest when someone shouted, "Longbottom! We're waiting on that soil!" and, with an apologetic glance at Luna, he said, "Yeah, I've got to run. Um, I didn't catch your last name?"

"Oh, it's Lovegood. Luna Lovegood. Nice greenhouse you have here, too." She gazed serenely at the glass houses and the various blossoming plants surrounding them. "My father is, er, deteriorating, and gardening is his one true love. I'm trying to make things as comfortable for him as possible, you know? Give him a proper send-off, surrounded by flowers and all. So I'm sure I'll come back for more pots and such."

"Please do," said Neville impulsively. Then he coughed, and bade her farewell, and tripped on his way to greenhouse B7, because a distraction in the form of Luna Lovegood had officially put off his day.

_xxx_

Draco stared out the window of the car. He thought he could see a tiny ray of sunlight, struggling to emerge from between a pair of awful thick black clouds, but he was probably mistaken.

"It'll be fine," Narcissa said soothingly, squeezing his hand. "It will be okay."

"Sure," he said irritably.

"Turn left here, please," she told the chauffeur. They parked on a random suburban avenue. Kids ran around, milling about like flies, and parents shouted for them to come back inside and put on their wellingtons. It was drizzling out, enough for puddles to mark every meter or so, and for Narcissa to have to cover her hair with a plastic bag because it had just been done up. She looked ridiculous, and Draco told her so.

"Why are we parking here, anyway?" he asked after she'd tipped the driver.

"We can't take a taxi to the prison, can we? People will judge."

"People like...?"

She said nothing, and unfurled an umbrella.

"Mum, no one would have seen us either way!"

"Draco, just follow me."

"I don't want to see him. You said you wouldn't make me."

"You sound like a petulant toddler."

That stung. "Thanks."

"I don't want to see him either."

"So let's go back then!"

"You have to see him. He wants to apologize to you."

"That's bull," muttered Draco. Then, after a pause, "How far is it?"

"Only a few blocks up."

His phone rang, but Narcissa gave him a look. It was Dean. He hung up, then texted him,

**Sorry. Mum. What's up?**

**just call me when you can, ok? -DT**

**Something happen with Ginny?**

**no. well, sort of. just call me -DT**

**How did the dinner go?**

**...thats what I need to talk to you about -DT**

**Are you sure you're okay?**

**I just need to talk to you, mate -DT**

**I'm busy right now. I can call you tonight.**

**ok. thanks -DT**

**No problem.**

Draco considered mentioning that he was off to see his estranged father before deciding that no, Dean probably wouldn't want to hear of it. Of course, his cousin knew a lot about the _situation_. If he let it affect his opinion of the family, it didn't show. However, why should he actually care if Draco was making up with Lucius or not? Come to that, _was_ he making up with Lucius? Maybe. Did he want to? No.

"It's just up here," Narcissa said. She was pale.

"Mum, we don't have to do this," Draco urged her. _Please let's not do this._

She took a deep, shuddery breath. "Yes, we do. We owe it to him."

"Are you mental? We owe _nothing_ to that man! He's a -"

They crossed the threshold into the prison, and he stopped talking instantly. There was a creepy echo to the foyer. A teenage girl glanced up from a tabloid, snapped her gum, and kept reading.

"Can I help you?" asked a woman from the desk. She had springy curls and bright red acrylic nails, which hit the computer's keys at an alarming rate.

"We're here to visit someone."

"Name?"

"Mine or his?"

"The prisoner's."

_The prisoner._ Draco turned away, stared at the plastic chairs peppering the reception room's monotony.

_x_

"_I'll be the bad guy this time," Draco said, tugging at Lucius's hand. He was four, with hair that looked nearly white, and striped velcro shoes. "Okay, Daddy?"_

_Lucius chuckled. "Okay."_

"_You have to get me now!" Draco ran in circles, squealing as his dad made siren noises and chased him round and round until they both fell onto the grass, laughing._

"_I'm the bad guy," Draco panted, beaming._

"_Yeah," said Lucius, and he glanced towards the porch, where he'd last seen his wife. _I'm sorry - I don't care, there's no excuse - I lost my temper - you were drinking, you said you wouldn't - I know I did, I know, I'm sorry - think of Draco - I do, I love you, I love him - it's not enough - Narcissa, please - if this happens again - I know - Lucius. _The anger, fury blooming in the hulk of his fist..._

"_Daddy!"_

"_Yes! What? Sorry."_

"_Do you want to be the bad guy now?"_

I already am. _"Sure, kiddo."_

"_Come on," Draco said, jumping to his feet. He took the fake handcuffs, a flimsy plastic affair nicked from an old magic trick box, and his father plopped a too-big conductor's hat on his head. "I'm the cop, okay?"_

"_What have I done wrong?" _Everything.

_The four-year-old thought for a moment. "You were a bully. You stole Millicent Bulstrode's biscuit at lunch."_

_If only mistakes were that innocent, crime so straightforward. Cause and effect in its purest form. _

"_Ready?"_

"_Of course."_

_Draco giggled, and trailed after his father around the yard before tackling him with a "RAWR! You are under arrest, good sir."_

"_Oh, darn!" Lucius pretended to wiggle against the cuffs. "Take me away, then."_

"_Look, Mummy!" called the boy as he dragged his father towards the house. "I've got a prisoner!"_

"_Better take him right to prison, where he belongs," she said, refusing to look at her husband. "Lunch in five minutes."_

_Draco turned to his father. "Is she angry with me?" he asked, bewildered by the tone of her voice._

"_No, not with you," Lucius said._

_Draco eyed his father. "You're sad."_

"_No, I'm not."_

_Gently, Draco unhooked the handcuffs. "There." He took his hat, and propped it up on Lucius's head. "You're not the bad guy anymore."_

"_Thanks, buddy."_

"_I like playing with you," said Draco happily. "I like the prison game."_

"_Mm."_

"_But you'll never be a prisoner, for real, will you, Daddy?"_

"_Never."_

_x_

Draco realized that he was crying.

"Sweetheart?"

He looked away.

"Draco?"

"When are we seeing him?" His voice was cold and hard now, just like the walls around them, the walls around his dad, the ease with which Lucius had broken all his promises.

"Fifteen minutes."

"Okay."

"Draco, I'm sorry -"

Still staring resolutely away from her, he said, "I know, Mum. Me too."

_xxx_

"Right, I'm driving the first hundred miles, then you two do the next two hundred, okay? Order doesn't matter, we'll figure it out."

Harry felt simultaneously relieved and disappointed when Ginny climbed up in front, shouting, "Shotgun!"

"Oi, Ginny, get in back!" ordered Ron.

"What? Why?"

"You're going to be a distraction."

"Excuse me?"

He shook a reprimanding finger at her. "I've been on plenty car trips with you, you're going to fiddle with the radio and roll down the windows and complain about hair getting stuck to your lipgloss, or whatever, and you're going to sing along and blast music when I'm trying to focus, and I'm going to have to bear the brunt of it while Harry gets a free pass? I don't think so. Go on, move the bags up here."

Annoyed, Ginny gave a little huff and came to sat next to Harry.

"_Thank_ you." Ron rolled his eyes. "Ready?"

"Any time now," said Harry.

"Let's hit it."

_xxx_

Hermione sat at her desk, feeling stupid.

"Thanks, Katie," she said drearily as one of the interns delivered yet another manila envelope on her impeccably organized desk.

"No problem," the girl replied. "But - actually - are you okay?"

"What?"

"It's just...me and Alicia have noticed you seem, like...frazzled."

"What? Oh, no, well, you know, it's been kind of chaotic around here, but I think I've just gotten it under control. The system should be up and working by the end of the day, and I'm staying after to deal with the email situation."

"You just seem - and don't get me wrong, you're doing a really good job, as always - out of sorts. Like, is everything okay, like, outside of work?"

"What - oh, you mean, my social life?"

"Well, yeah."

"I'm..."

Thankfully, someone from accounting stuck their head in and asked for Katie, saving Hermione from producing an answer.

The moment the door closed, she sighed and buried her face in her hands.

Why was she being so damn stubborn with this Ron business? She loved him, he loved her, it should be simple.

But it wasn't.

Truth be told, Hermione was an ambitious, confident, self-respecting woman. In general. Except everybody has insecurities, and hers were - well, she didn't exactly like to broadcast them. Part of her wanted more than anything to be with Ron, yet another part was moderately terrified. It wasn't as if she had any deep dark secrets, but she did have moments of doubt, and engaging in a relationship would mean exposing her uglier side. She could be vengeful, she could be angry, she could be sad, she could be downright difficult on days where she really didn't like herself very much. Loving someone was one thing; loving them unconditionally was another, and she wasn't all too certain which category Ron fell under.

The entire situation was so silly and confusing and she didn't want to think about it anymore. She stood up, stretched, and took a short walk to the break room, where she grabbed a mug of coffee and steeled herself for the remainder of the day. Work was a good distraction.

She was triumphantly finishing her last load of paperwork when a text from Ginny popped up on her phone.

**you really should've come. i think ron's feeling lonely.**

**What do you mean? ~H. Granger**

**well, harry & i have been hanging out alot & i think ron got sorta jealous. like, that he doesn't have someone. not that i'm being exclusive. but he clearly misses you. you should text him.**

**Do you think he loves me unconditionally? ~H. Granger**

**WHAT? are you daft? ofc he loves you unconditionally! honestly, you're the only one holding him back rn. he's done everything he can to prove his undying love to you.**

**You're right. So you think I should, like... talk to him? ~H. Granger**

**yes! but don't text. text is lame.**

**Oh, of course. Everybody knows that. ~H. Granger**

**exactly :P call him tonight, he'll be free after 10.**

**Aaahhh okay okay I can do this. What do I say? ~H. Granger**

**just tell him you're in.**

**What? Ginny I can't just ring him up to say "I'm in" and be done with it! ~H. Granger**

**no no no i don't mean like just say that. but just say that you want to be with him. & maybe explain why you've hesitated so he doesn't feel like he's done something wrong. you know, a bit of "it's not you, it's me".**

**Right. Do you really think I can do it? ~H. Granger**

**i'm positive. just be honest, be yourself. he LOVES you, ok?**

**Does that mean that I need to tell him I'm scared? That sounds so childish and stupid. ~H. Granger**

**relationships are childish and stupid, hermione. seriously. yes. tell him everything.**

**Okay. Thanks xx ~H. Granger**

**i gotta go, i'm talking to harry, but lemme know how it goes, k? everything will be okay, i PROMISE. love you x**

**You too. Okay, talk to you later. ~H. Granger**

Hermione drove back to an empty flat planning for an evening full of productive work and perhaps some cleaning. Instead, she laid in bed and stared at a photograph of her and Ron, his arm casually slung round her shoulders, her head against his neck, and counted down the seconds until ten o'clock.

_xxx_

"Harry!" cried Molly Weasley, throwing her arms around him. She was a stout, kind woman with semi-gray auburn hair and Ginny's cinnamon eyes. "I swear you've grown since I last saw you!"

He smiled. "Nope, still 5'11. Solid half a foot taller than Ginny." She stuck her tongue out at him.

Beaming, Mrs. Weasley gathered her daughter into her arms. "Ginny! So good to see you!"

"You too, Mum," Ginny replied, pecking her on the cheek and reaching for her bags. "I've got those."

"Oh, sweetie, you're staying with Fleur."

"Come again?"

"Fleur. Bill's girlfriend. She's _French_." This she said in a vaguely judgmental voice. Ron and Harry exchanged looks. "No, no," Molly said hurriedly, catching on. "It's not - she's just been different, you know, to get used to. And I suppose I've been having to cater to her needs more than I'd like." Sighing, she shook her head. "But I really don't mind. Boys, you're staying in the guest room - Charlie's taken over yours, Ron, and the twins...I can't even keep up with what they're doing nowadays."

"Ron!"

It was Percy. He was also tall and lanky, and just a couple inches shorter than his younger brother, who moved to hug him. With an uncomfortable grimace, Percy shook his hand instead; Ron made a face at Harry, mouthing,_ Still a prat._

"Right, how are you?" Percy asked stiffly.

"Fine..."

"That's good! I've been very busy with my new campaign, and you would not _believe _how busy -"

"Oh, hey, Charlie!" Ron said loudly, cutting Percy off.

"Hey, you!" said Charlie, giving him a proper hug and ruffling Harry's hair as if they were 10 again. "It's been too long! How goes? Here, here, grab a seat." They sat down on the sofa. "You too, Mum!"

"Oh no, dear, I couldn't," she said, smiling. "You all make yourselves at home, alright? I have to polish the silverware and there's still lots to do for supper tonight. Hermione couldn't make it?" Ron and Harry shook their heads. "Shame." She frowned. "Give her my love - oh, Ginny, I just remembered - there's a fresh set of linens on the cabinet in the upstairs hallway for you. Percy, why don't you -"

He was on the phone. "Sorry, it's my supervisor," he said, and went outside.

"Typical," muttered Charlie. "He's all work and no fun."

Mrs. Weasley cast them one more fond look, then bustled off to tend to the soup boiling on the stove.

"Oi, Ginny! C'mere!" Charlie jumped up as she emerged from the landing and all but tackled her. "How's my baby sis?"

"Fine," she said; then, to Harry, "Go on then, budge up."

"What? Oh." He moved over on the couch and she took a seat next to him, knees touching. Well, _that_ was unnecessary. Cue the heart racing.

Ron was beaming ear to ear. "Tell us all about the circus!" he said eagerly, leaning forward.

"Well, the zoo was hesitant to let me go - I'm pretty good at my job, if I do say so myself - but they figured it was best for my career, so I bade them farewell and now I'm off to meet my new partners in crime! By which I mean the wild cats, of course. People, not so much."

"Blimey," said Ron, in awe. Then, pointing to his brother's arm, "What happened there?"

Charlie ran a hand over a large scar stretching from his shoulder to the crook of his elbow. "This? It's nothing, just a bit of a disagreement with a rogue tigress. We didn't realize she had cubs, and, well, I got too close. Twenty-six stitches, would you believe it?" He shrugged. "What are you going to do. So, what's Hermione been up to?"

Harry was just about to answer this - Ron appeared to have been rendered incoherent at the mention of her name - when the door opened and Arthur Weasley came in, followed by the twins.

"FRED! GEORGE!" shouted Ginny, leaping up and embracing them both.

"Hey, careful," objected Fred. "Room to breathe would be nice. Blimey, you look grown up." He grinned and hugged her again.

"I second that motion," George put in, wrapping a burly arm around her. The twins, like Charlie, were sturdily built, with muscular limbs and shorter statures. "Good to see you, sis."

"Harry!" Arthur clapped him heartily on the back. "How are you, old chap? I suppose Molly's already done the I-swear-you've-grown-since-I-last-saw-you number?"

"Word for word," said Harry, laughing.

They sat in a circle on the living room floor for the next half hour, passing a tin of biscuits around and exchanging stories convivially. Harry felt absurdly happy, and it was as if the malaise that had plagued him for the past few months was dissipating with every joke, every smile, every time Ginny caught his eye or the twins fist-bumped him.

George was in the midst of imitating a particularly thick customer he'd had to deal with at the shop, which had them all in hysterics, when Bill arrived. Close behind him was a tall, willowy woman. She had lustrous blonde hair and smelled like a perfume store.

"Hey! You're here!" Bill said, taking his jacket off.

Ron and Harry stood up, enthusiastically greeting the eldest of the Weasley brothers. "Haven't seen you in ages, mate," Harry said; he'd always liked Bill, whose job as a bank accountant quite fit his calm, agreeable nature.

"Right? You'll have to catch me up soon. Oh - lads, Ginny, this is Fleur Delacour."

"'Ello," she said, waving.

"She's a French model," Bill explained, "but took a part-time job at the bank to help improve her English. One thing led to another, and..."

"Yes, we are very 'appy together," she said, wrapping a slender arm around his waist.

Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry, who smothered a snicker and cleared his throat when Fleur said,

"And you are? 'Arry, Bill said?"

"Er - yes. Nice to - nice to meet you."

"Ze pleasure is all mine. You are a family friend, no? You do not have ze red 'air."

"Um, yeah. Ron's my roommate."

"Ah. Ron." She held out a hand, which he stared at dumbly for a good ten seconds.

"Oh - I'm - hi. I'm Ron." He flushed scarlet. One of the twins sniggered.

"Nice to meet you," she said, though she most definitely did not look like she meant it. "Who is zis?"

"This is my sister, Ginny," Bill said. Harry nudged Ron, but it was as if he was in some sort of trance.

"Hi," Ginny said bluntly.

With a disdainful look, Fleur shook her hand. "_You_ certainly have ze red 'air."

"Yes," said Ginny crossly. "So?"

"Oh, nothing. Where I come from - ze modeling business - you do not see many little girls with red 'air. And if they have it, they dye it. Blonde or brown."

"I'm twenty-three," said Ginny testily.

"Ah. I'm sorry - you look much younger."

"I do not -" Ginny started, when Ron butted in and moved to reach for Fleur's hand, but she backed up rapidly and stared at him in confusion.

"We 'ave already met, I believe."

"I'm Ron," he said breathlessly.

"O_kay!_" Bill said, hurriedly coming forward. Arthur looked baffled, Charlie amused, and the twins could barely contain their glee. "Alright. This is good, yeah? Everyone's met each other? Hey, I smell dinner. Mum!" he called.

Mrs. Weasley came in. "Where have you been all day?" she asked, giving him a warm hug. "I was wondering if - oh, hello, Fleur."

"'Ello."

"Right. Well. Dinner's just about ready, so Ginny, if you could set the table? Harry, why don't you help her? Ron, plates; twins, there's a tablecloth around here somewhere and I hope to god you're not responsible for its disappearance; Charlie, if you could help me pull out a new leaf - we should be able to accommodate everyone, it'll just be a tight squeeze; and Arthur, do go find Percy and drag him in here. His promotion or pamphlets or whatever it is now can wait until tomorrow."

"Fleur's really something, isn't she?" said Ginny in an undertone as she and Harry rummaged through the cutlery drawer.

"Yeah, she's...Ron seems quite taken with her."

She snorted. "It's rather amusing, isn't it? Simultaneously comical and utterly pathetic."

"Well, you know, it's not without reason. Here's six forks."

She took them, then asked quickly, "What do you mean?"

"They're forks, Ginny," said Harry.

"Shut up," she said, shoving him. He chuckled.

"Four spoons. D'you reckon we can use this one? It's got some rust on the -"

"No, I mean about Fleur."

This was out of left field. "Come again?"

"What you - what you said before." She coughed, staring at her feet. "I just mean, when you said it's not without reason."

"That? Well, she's a model."

"So?"

"_So_, I'm not going to pretend she's not attractive."

"Oh."

"Are you okay?" He passed her a napkin ring.

"Yeah, yeah, fine."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes." Refusing to look at him, she ducked her head and carried seven sets of silverware to the table. As she was about to search for more in the kitchen, Harry grabbed her arm.

"Hey."

"What?"

"Between us, you've got nothing on Fleur."

"What?" she said.

He winked at her. "Nothing," he replied breezily. "C'mon, I think I know where we can find some more spoons."


	7. Damaged Goods

_Summary - _AU. Harry Potter lives an ordinary post-college, non-magical life. Everything is hunky dory until he realizes that he's got feelings for none other than the sister of his roommate, Ron Weasley. Moreover, she's just been swept off her feet by handsome Dean Thomas, who happens to have a grudge against Harry and Ron ever since their best friend, Hermione, punched his cousin (Draco Malfoy) in the face. Contains H/G, R/H, fluff, angst, and a fairly engaging plot line, if I do say so myself.

_Disclaimer - _I regret to inform you that I am not, cannot, and, unless science makes some major technological advances, will never be JK Rowling. I own none of the characters, terms, references, or places aside from ones I create and my storyline, you know the drill, R&R! Also, while I wish I had half the artistic ability of the people who are part of DeviantArt, I do not, and the cover photo is credited to user **~myavi** on said site.

_Author's note - _It has come to my attention that some readers think I ought to proofread before posting, so to clear the air: you would not believe the proofreading I do. Like, 40% of the work is writing, then 60% is going through, proofreading, editing, catching typos, and fixing redundancies. Moreover, once I've posted a chapter, I often read through it two or three more times on the site and replace/update the chapter as needed. So, if you do catch any typos and such that would make it appear that I haven't proofread correctly, please be assured that it's probably since you're reading one of the earliest versions of it, and I will do my best to correct it. I appreciate your feedback; that said, more specific feedback about the fic rather than criticizing my editing process would be appreciated too. Thank you!

_x_

_Chapter Seven: Damaged Goods_

"Malfoy? You can come in now."

Narcissa seized Draco's arm to steady herself; there was a desperation to her vise-like grip.

"Right this way."

They plodded silently down a long hallway, and another, and another, until they reached the prison's communications sector.

"Here you are, then. Come downstairs when you've finished visiting."

"Okay," said Draco. His mother was trembling. "Mum?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Walking over to a guard, she cleared her throat and said, "We're here to see Lucius Malfoy."

"Right this way, ma'am. We'll accompany you, don't worry."

"Why would I worry?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "This is Malfoy we're talking about, yeah?"

"That is correct."

"So, it should be self explanatory."

"Oh," she said faintly. Draco fervently wished that the man had not said that, and tensed slightly.

Seeing this, the guard added reassuringly, "It's also protocol." He whistled as they came to the end of a corridor, and withdrew a massive keychain from his pocket.

"Draco?"

"I'm right here, Mum."

"Here we are," said the guard, and opened the door.

_xxx_

At precisely 10:01 PM, Ron's phone rang. Harry and Ginny were playing a game of chess on the floor while Percy labored away on his laptop and the twins reviewed inventory for their shop. Mrs. Weasley had switched on the radio; a loud, sappy love ballad filled the room. Fleur, who was going over paperwork with Bill, could not be less pleased with the music choice, and made this opinion quite known by mimicking the lyrics until Molly, frustrated beyond belief, went off to finish cleaning the kitchen.

"Who is it?" asked Harry absentmindedly, toying with a pawn as he deliberated his next move.

Ginny was staring at her older brother intently. "Answer it," she urged him.

"Nah, I -"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, answer the effing phone," she said fiercely.

"What did she just say?" asked Fleur sharply of Bill, who shook his head.

"Okay, okay, I will! My god, Ginny." Annoyed, he pulled it out from his pocket.

"Who is it?" repeated Harry, moving his knight forward.

"It's Hermione," Ginny replied, at the same time as Ron picked up and said quietly,

"Hermione?" He strode swiftly to the other room.

Harry shot Ginny a questioning look. "How'd you know? Your turn."

"Because she's my best friend and I told her to."

"What's she going to say to him, then?"

Ginny shrugged cryptically, then sat up. "Listen, I have to go call Dean. Good game."

His stomach sank horribly at this pronouncement. "Now?"

"Yeah, said I would at 9:30, and it's past then, isn't it?"

"Oh. Right. Well, how long will you be?"

She yawned. "Probably awhile. I'll see you in the morning."

He most certainly did not want her to go talk to her boyfriend, especially when he finally had her relatively alone. Not even a little bit. But there was really nothing he could do, so he nodded weakly and waved. "Goodnight."

She smiled. "'Night, Harry."

Lost in thought, he watched her hair swing against her back as she walked upstairs. Hanging out with all day had been the most fun he'd had in ages. Things were easy with her; they cracked the same jokes, watched the same shows, and listened to the same music. If only he had made a move before Dean entered the picture. Before it was too late.

"Oi," said George, sidling up next to him. "What's happening?"

"Er - nothing." He began gathering the chess pieces up.

Fred joined the two. "So, what's the deal with Ron and Hermione? Go on, give us the dirt."

"I think you'd be better off talking to Ginny about that one," said Harry, folding the board. "She clearly knows more than I do."

"We did. She wouldn't tell. In fact, she was rather rude, wouldn't you say?"

"Absolutely," conceded George. "And what have we done to deserve that?"

"Well, there were all those times we pulled pranks on her when she was younger. The things we stole. The goldfish we accidentally killed because we wanted to see what would happen if we put Pop Rocks in the fishbowl. And the times we interfered with her social life, embarrassed her in front of new boyfriends, crashed dates, and got her grounded."

George considered this. "Hm. Reckon that's enough to deserve her cheek?"

"I'm afraid so." They both turned to Harry expectantly. "I'll admit that we don't reserve the right to try to get information out of Ginny. Which leaves you. So, anytime now."

"Why do you want to know? We're adults, it's his own life."

"Because - serious Gred and Forge moment here - we care about him. And, to be honest, we've had bets on how long it'd be before they got together since...when was it?"

"The first time she came over," said George. "In what, sixth grade? Mate, that was over a decade ago."

"Exactly. We had to refine our bets several times, since high school was such a disappointment."

"Before you got here, I'd decided on sometime this year, and Fred bet by the time you lads are twenty-five. We tried to get Dad involved, but he didn't want anything to do with our 'hijinks.'" George scoffed. "Anyway, who's going to win?"

"I honestly don't know." Harry stood up. "I don't have that much information. Ron loves her, she loves him, and for some godforsaken reason they still aren't dating."

"Dimwitted sod," muttered George. "I love the guy, but he kills me sometimes. Bit thick, am I right?"

"You know, I'm his best friend, so...well, yeah. When it comes to girls he hasn't really had the best of luck. Or smarts."

"Exactly! Hey, Charlie!" Harry, who had just begun to sneak off, was suddenly snatched by the arms and shoved down onto the couch by Fred as George waved their older brother over.

Charlie came down and sat next to them. "Where'd Ginny and Ron go?"

"Ginny's talking to Dean, Ron's talking to Hermione," replied Harry. "I'm pretty tired, I think I'm going to -"

"Ah, love lives." Fred leaned back and sighed theatrically, arms behind his head. "Remember when mine, you know, existed?"

"Good times. But hey, guess who's back in town?"

"Who?"

"Angelina."

"_Johnson?_"

"Indeed."

"Wasn't she your prom -"

"She was."

"And didn't that not go very -"

"Let's not talk about it. Point is, she looked me up, and we're having coffee next Thursday. Good, yeah?"

"Excellent!" Fred high-fived him. "Meanwhile I'll drown my sorrows in cheap magic trick boxes and card tricks. The struggle is real."

"You'll find someone," Charlie said reassuringly.

"Yeah? Did you meet anyone at the zoo?"

"We-ell..." Charlie's blue eyes twinkled at them.

"Ooh, do tell!"

"There was a girl. Audrey."

"What'd she look like?"

Charlie whipped out his phone and enthusiastically began scrolling through photos, detailing the places they met and their inside jokes. They'd agreed to part ways when he got a new job, though they remained good friends and stayed in frequent contact. "Actually, I asked Mum and Audrey might stop by at some point this week," he said. "She's dying to meet you all, though I warned her about Percy. He's a little off-putting sometimes, y'know. Like when you have to warn a friend about a yappy dog or irritable grandmother? That sort of thing."

"Congrats," Harry said, getting up.

"You're not leaving, are you?"

"I'm tired," he said firmly. "I'm going upstairs."

The Weasley brothers all said goodnight; Fleur merely glanced up through absurdly long eyelashes - even in sweatpants and a worn t-shirt, her beauty was striking.

As he passed Ginny's room, he heard peals of laughter and an "I miss you, babe" that caused him to speed up considerably and hurtle into the guest room, nearly flattening Ron, who was pacing with the phone pressed to his ear.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, quickly retreating.

"No, no, it's fine, we were just finishing up," said Ron. "Hermione, it's Harry."

"Hi!" called Harry, changing into pajamas and settling into bed with his Kindle.

"Anyway, I'll talk to you tomorrow, alright? Yeah. Yeah. No problem. You're welcome. Okay. Goodnight." He hung up and came to sit next to Harry.

"Well?" said Harry, holding his breath; his friend's expression was, thus far, unreadable.

"We're - I don't know what you call it." Ron paused, then burst out beaming. "_Together_."

"Finally!" Harry clapped his hands together, relieved. "Good going! So what exactly did she say? Or is that classified information?"

"Basically, she's been worried - like she has anything to worry about - and scared, I guess, you know, to be in a relationship. She and Viktor didn't last because they got too serious and she withdrew. But I told her that I love her unconditionally, and insecurities don't matter to me, and she can trust me with anything, and we can take it slow if that helps. And that I think she's awesome and amazing and beautiful and everything." He gave a huge, blissful sigh and lay down, clutching the pillow to his chest. "She's incredible, mate."

"I know." Harry's smile felt fake for some reason, and he turned onto his side so as to avoid Ron's gaze. Ginny, Dean, Ron, Hermione, George, Angelina, Charlie, Audrey, Bill, and Fleur - they were all happy together, had found their second half, and where did that leave him? Choking on the unsaid things he had to say to his best friend's younger sister, staring unseeingly at the print of his favorite book, going to bed before midnight, losing interest in football games. He was, of course, more than content in the Weasley household; he truly did feel at home, feel at ease with the family. But this night, with everything falling perfectly into place for everyone around him...it felt lonely.

"I could run a mile!" Ron said joyfully, hopping out of bed. "She - do you know how much I love her? She's just so - blimey, after all these years - it's been ages, really -"

This went on for quite some time: five minutes into Ron's fit of exuberance, Harry rolled over, groaning, and fell asleep in a most disagreeable mood.

_xxx_

Neville was pulling out of the parking lot the next day, struggling to balance a surplus of miniature flower pots and a cup of iced coffee when a woman crossed right in front of him. He slammed on the brakes; coffee splashed onto the dash and his crew neck, though he managed to catch the planters just as they toppled out of his grasp. Feeling appropriately badass about this accomplishment, he placed them carefully in the passenger's seat and got out of the vehicle, rummaging about for something to wipe himself off with.

"Neville, is it?"

He froze, napkin poised over his shirt. "Luna? Hey, hey." Self consciously, he flipped his hair to the side, then felt ridiculous, like some silly boy band member, and coughed. "Are you alright? Sorry for almost running you over."

She had her hair in a messy side plait, a circlet of dandelions wound round her head, and was wearing a peculiar cork necklace. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry, that was my fault."

He chuckled ruefully. "We have _got_ to find a better way of interacting than spilling all manner of things on each other. Gets tiring after awhile."

She gave a tinkling laugh. "You're right."

Why was she looking at him like that? Was he supposed to say something now? And if so, what? Should he jump back into the car? Take her out to dinner? Panicking slightly, Neville asked, "Um, do you want to grab lunch sometime?"

"Oh. Well, I don't know - I do have to look after my dad - but, yeah. I'd love to." She smiled. "So, how about noon this Saturday?"

Had he just successfully asked a girl out? Stunned, he said, "Okay," and waved at her as they went their separate ways. Driving home, all he could think of was her silvery eyes and melodic voice and the fact that they were going on a _date. _Just wait until Gran heard about this.

_xxx_

Dean was going grocery shopping for the first time in his new life. The refrigerator had finally arrived, then been repaired, and, pocket considerably lighter, he bade farewell to his nightly carry-out.

He tried several times to call Draco, but his cousin's phone had been turned off. Concern was beginning to creep in; he was reminded all too well of days in middle school when Draco wouldn't pick up for ages and then reappear with freshly-healed bruises and uncharacteristic silence.

Lucius was out of his life now, though, wasn't he? It was Dean's 911 call that got him incarcerated, Dean who'd rescued Draco, snuck him out of the house at 1:30 a.m. and stored bandages and Neosporin at his place, who covered for him, who finally, one day, confronted the man who was hurting the closest thing he ever had to a brother. Dean who decided that he had had enough, Dean who called the cops, but not until after Lucius had broken his arm. Dean who, as much as he hated it, acted blase years later, for the sake of his aunt and cousin, acted like it had never happened, when the reality was that he could never forget it.

The truth was, Draco suffered the abuse. But Dean - Dean suffered the unbelievable emotional toll. He suffered watching those he loved grow up too fast too soon. He suffered watching his aunt quietly retreat into herself, his aunt cry for "no reason," his aunt make excuses, his aunt still cook him his favorite macaroni and cheese, his aunt send him birthday cards and presents when he knew that she was going through hell behind those merry flowered curtains. His aunt who held him in battered arms when news of his father came, and he discovered that he was not the man he thought he was. That he was much, much stronger, and much, much braver than anybody had ever suspected. That he had died fighting for the country, died refusing to give in, died with Dean's school picture tucked inside his pocket.

So Dean was, to an extent, damaged goods.

But then Ginny came into his life. In the blink of an eye, he felt happy. He no longer felt haunted by his past. She didn't judge him, she laughed at his lame jokes, she smiled into his eyes and just like that, he felt alright for the first time in god knew how long. Somehow, with her, he didn't feel any rush to disclose his childhood, or guilt for not having done so already, save at the dinner party. She was beautiful, she was perfect, she was magical, and she had begun to unknowingly heal him.

"Dean?"

Shaken out of his thoughts, he jumped. It was Hermione.

"Er - hello," she said. "How are you?"

"Fine," he said. This was remarkably awkward.

"Listen, I'm really sorry. I had -"

"No idea," he finished bitterly. "Ginny said all that, already."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I don't expect pity. I don't want it. You're fine."

"I hope you can forgive me -"

"I will, yeah. It just - it just might take some time, okay? I know you didn't have any idea, I know you were defending your friends, but...I can't help it, you know? Draco's my cousin, he's like my brother, and I'd steal the moon for him. So anyone who hurt him when he was already hurting - even if they didn't know - isn't exactly in my good books. Not yet."

"I -"

He reached for a box of pasta. "No, no. Listen, you're Ginny's best friend, and she loves you more than anything, and if I respect her - and I do - then I ought to trust her judgment. I know you're not a bad person. And that it was years ago. It might take me a bit to clear my head, that's all."

"Take as much time as you need," she said earnestly.

"Thanks." He gave her a small smile. "So..."

"I should get going," she said hurriedly. Then tentatively, "Have a good day!"

"You too," he mumbled, and grabbed a jar of tomato sauce.

_x_

Sorry, abrupt ending, I know. I'm trying to aim for all my chapters to be around the same length, and if I include Draco's reunion with Lucius in this one, it would be far too long. Please R&R, F&F, and thank you for your patience. I know I'm not updating very quickly right now.


	8. All Alone

_Summary - _AU. Harry Potter lives an ordinary post-college, non-magical life. Everything is hunky dory until he realizes that he's got feelings for none other than the sister of his roommate, Ron Weasley. Moreover, she's just been swept off her feet by handsome Dean Thomas, who happens to have a grudge against Harry and Ron ever since their best friend, Hermione, punched his cousin (Draco Malfoy) in the face. Contains H/G, R/H, fluff, angst, and a fairly engaging plot line, if I do say so myself.

_Disclaimer - _I regret to inform you that I am not, cannot, and, unless science makes some major technological advances, will never be JK Rowling. I own none of the characters, terms, references, or places aside from ones I create and my storyline! Also, while I wish I had half the artistic ability of the people who are part of DeviantArt, I do not, and the cover photo is credited to user **~myavi** on said site.

_Author's note -_ So this chapter was a bit angsty, but don't worry, chapter 9 will have much more fluff. Please R&R, F&F, and make requests.

_x_

_Chapter Eight: All Alone_

Harry woke up just like old times: namely, to the dulcet tones of the twins exchanging heated remarks while Ron sat up groggily, gave a half-hearted "Whassgoinon?" and went back to sleep. Reaching for his glasses, Harry groaned and chucked a pillow at the bickering men.

"Oh, hello," said George pleasantly, leaning over him.

"Hi," he said blearily. "Have you seen my glasses?"

"Do you have contacts?"

"Yeah, buried in our bathroom cupboard back at home. Where are my glasses?"

"There's an optometrist nearby," Fred said helpfully.

Harry, who was virtually blind without said glasses, kicked off the sheets and began rummaging frenetically in drawers and piles of papers. This resulted in a painful stubbed toe, some choice swear words, and a final, "What the _hell_ did you do with them?"

"Um." George tapped him gingerly on the shoulder.

"What's that in your hand?" Harry squinted, and a mass of mangled wire and shattered glass came into focus. "Jesus _Christ_, what did you do?"

"For the record, I was all for running and buying you a new pair at the drugstore before you woke up," Fred said. "If that - if that counts for anything." He fell silent at Harry's scowl.

George turned on his brother, snapping, "I hope you're happy! Now Harry's all out of sorts -"

"You're the one who thought it'd be _hilarious_ if we dangled a ginormous fake spider above Ron's bed!"

"Spider? Where?!" Ron leapt out of bed, holding a heavy book aloft by way of a weapon. "Where's the spider?"

"We got rid of it, you sissy. After our dear _George_ here ruined the morning for us all."

"I didn't know you'd shout at me and I'd lose my balance!"

"It's your fault, you've got mammoth arms, if it was Percy he wouldn't have -"

"Excuse you! Mammoth arms? They would've smashed if anyone fell, like I did, and happened to land on them."

"BOYS!" shouted Harry. They both looked at him. "Are we _five?_" he asked, rubbing his hands wearily across his face and sitting down on the bed. "Okay, that settles it. The second I get a new pair - which, incidentally, _you're_ paying for - I'm getting a fibreglass case, padlocked and bubble-wrapped so you idiots -"

"Is everything okay?"

Harry froze. Ginny stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but a rather skimpy cami and volleyball shorts. She looked extremely attractive, as far as he could discern, whereas he was positive that he currently held a strong resemblance to a hobo.

"I heard voices, and I jumped out of the shower, thought one of the twins had finally murdered the other. Sorry, I'll leave you lot to it, then. Good morning, Harry!"

He grunted. This was so not fair.

"By the way, Fleur's looking for you," she said, sounding disgruntled, "so if she bothers you...y'know, you can just reject her." He was pretty sure she winked at him. _So_ not fair.

"Okay, bye," Fred said loudly.

"What did you do?" she asked automatically.

"What? Nothing, not a thing."

"Come off it, I've grown up with you. Whenever you're in a hurry to get me out of the room, it means you're up to no good. Ron?" She crossed her arms. "What's going on?"

He was curled in a fetal position on his bed, and stuttered, "D-don't ask me, there's an effing sp-spider running loose in here."

"It's _fake_, you dumbass," George said. "Granted, it was a wind-up one - lovely model, very successful at the shop - but it's _fake._"

"I don't trust you," grumbled Ron, retreating beneath his bedcovers again.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Harry?"

She was looking at him. She was effing _looking_ at him, and he could barely even _see_ her, and even _this_ was causing his heart to beat abnormally fast. "Er," he choked. "It's -"

"Go on then, fess up," she said, turning to the twins. "Which one of you did it?"

They each pointed at each other.

"He provoked me," George yelled, while Fred, with a roar of annoyance, grabbed the spectacles and held them up, mouthing, _All him._

"Are those Harry's?"

"Um, yeah."

Ginny stared at them. "He's had those for ages."

"We know."

"He's blind as a bat without them."

"This is true."

"So what would ever _possibly_ possess you to -"

"Oh, no, it wasn't intentional. No, we were trying to prank Ron instead, you know, welcome him home with open arms and a traumatic experience."

"Are we _nine?_"

"That's a bit generous," Harry piped up. "I gave them five."

She gaped at them disbelievingly before saying, "Harry, I am literally _so_ sorry. Let me apologize on behalf of my _older _brothers" - she glared fiercely at them - "who happen to be well over 18 but clearly quit the whole maturing business in seventh grade" - "Hey, it wasn't a good fit," said Fred, shrugging - "and say that they are complete arses, and I'll make sure they pay for this."

"No, it's fine," he said, sighing. "They'll hand over the money, I'll make do for now."

George said eagerly, "D'you fancy a white cane? I know a guy -"

"I think that's quite enough from you," Ginny barked in a very Mrs. Weasley-esque manner.

"Right. We'll scamper. Come on, Gred."

"After you, Forge."

They left, and Ginny came to sit next to Harry. She smelled good. She had nice skin. She was way too close for comfort; it was like the dinner party all over again. "You okay?" she asked. "I mean, do we need to get you a seeing eye dog, or?"

"I think I'll survive," he said. "Plus, blindness has been known to be an excellent excuse for inadvertently shoving a certain pair of gingers down the stairs."

She laughed (Harry felt rather pleased with himself for producing a response, and a clever one at that) and patted his shoulder. "See you at breakfast."

As she got up to leave, a hideous, battery-operated spider came hurtling out from beneath the dresser, reducing Ron to a shrieking, whimpering ball. He would not move or get out of bed until Fleur floated in, looking for Harry, and said casually, "'Ello, Ginny. What is it zat you are screaming at?"

_xxx_

There was a song that Draco listened to once. It came up on his Pandora a few years back while he was filling out legal forms, and he'd heard it absentmindedly, like one listens to a concert pianist at a fancy restaurant when really one is focused primarily on the fancy dinnerware and filet mignon. In fact, it was quite possible that he'd given it a thumbs-down, for it was not the type of music he was accustomed to.

Now, however, the lyrics - to which he'd paid virtually no attention at the time - inexplicably filled his head, pounding against the edges of his skull like a deranged record player in a haunted room.

_Broken home, all alone_

_I know my mother loves me_

_But does my father even care?_

_If I'm sad or angry_

_You were never ever there_

_When I needed you_

_I hope you regret what you did_

_I think I know the truth_

_Your father did the same to you_

_Did the same to you_

_Broken home, all alone..._

-Papa Roach, "Broken Home"-

Lucius stood up. Wrinkles had aged him, though his eyes were the same icy slate color as they'd always been. He was a broad-shouldered man, now, and at the sight of his wrists, handcuffed to the table, and the mighty fists at the ends of them, Draco wanted to vomit.

"Draco," he said breathlessly.

That voice. That bloody voice. Singing him to sleep, reading him bedtime stories, calling his mother names, rising and beating off the walls of his bedroom, reverberating and making the mobile above his twin bed spin wildly, like a ship in a storm.

"Draco, you have _no_ idea..."

"Don't," Draco said coldly, and gripped his mother's hand. "Don't even try. I won't forgive you. I'm only here because of Mum."

"I honestly - I honestly want to apologize to you. From the bottom of my heart. You never deserved what I did -"

"Oh, caught on now, have you?" sneered Draco.

His father's eyes flickered to Narcissa, the silent witness. It was when Draco hit his twelfth birthday that he first intervened, first stood before his mum and tried to stare his father down. He'd punch him, harder than any boy his age, but was no match for a raging, intoxicated, middle-aged man. And Narcissa would stand trembling in the corner, silent tears snaking down her face, smudging mascara and eyeliner. He remembered that: remembered the way the makeup looked, the way it cut her face into shards, reminiscent of a shattered stained glass window.

"Lucius," Narcissa said, relinquishing her son's hold. She moved forward slightly.

"Cissy -"

She flinched, holding up a finger. "Don't."

"Sorry. Narcissa."

"Lucius, what you did was unforgivable."

"I know."

"But I loved you, and - and I still love you."

"And I you."

She took a shaky breath. "But...Draco comes first. Always has, always will. He's my son. He protected my life; I'll protect his. To the end."

"I understand. I just - I need you to forgive me, don't you understand? It's been torture here, thinking back on all the things I did. You must understand that I wasn't myself. I wasn't - I wasn't myself." He pulled at his white-blonde hair, distressed. "I only woke up the next day, with a pounding headache, staring at your bruised, bare shoulders in bed next to me. Later, it was just empty sheets. And my son, my own son, would come home from school with a black-eye, and I'd want to know who did it, but the terror in his eyes was enough to know that _I _was the monster."

"No amount of apologizing will ever even_ begin_ to save you," snarled Draco. "You still did those things. I still remember. You're still a monster. Once a monster, always a monster. You lied to me so many times, didn't you?"

"I -"

Draco slammed his hand down on the table; his father jumped back, startled, and with the abrupt realization that they were the same height now. "_Didn't you?"_ he hissed.

"I did. I did! I'll admit it! I screwed our family over, I lost everyone I loved, I know, I know, I know. I just - I need you to see it from my point of view."

"Hah!" Draco cried derisively, and tears began to involuntarily leak out of his eyes. "Your point of view? Your point of view - you have no reason - _Mum."_

Narcissa wrapped an arm around him, brought his head down to her shoulder until the shuddering stopped.

"You're a horrible person," he said, swiping at his nose and turning back to Lucius, whose face paled.

"I'm not -"

"Don't even deny it!"

"Narcissa?"

"Shh, Draco," she said. "Lucius, my son is right."

_My son._ _Not ours._ Something broke inside of him, and joined all the other broken things over the years in a still-growing heap of useless parts.

"What you did was unforgivable. At the same time..."

"No, there's no 'at the same time!'" bellowed Draco. "There's only 'you're a lying, filthy bastard!'"

"Draco," she said sharply. "Let me finish. He hurt me too."

"Sorry."

"Lucius. What you did...do you understand how it was, for me? For Draco? I had to lie - your lies made me lie. I'm not a liar. You knew me at university, you knew how good I was, how moral, how I never lied. But you made me make excuses. You made me do so many things that I'll regret forever. You can't take that back. You can't undo it." She laughed bitterly. "If you could get some magical object and turn back time, do you honestly expect us to believe that you'd fix this?"

"I would -"

"No, you wouldn't," Draco intervened. "See, Lucius, the thing is, it would've gone exactly the same. Because that alcoholic was you, is you, will always be you. I think we're done here, yeah? Let's go."

"Don't leave."

The catch in his voice was just barely enough to make Draco let go of the door handle.

"Please. I know you won't listen to me. I know I can't give any explanation, any apology that will be legitimate in your eyes. And maybe you'll just walk out and never come back in my life." His voice became strained, high-pitched, and he swallowed hard, adam's apple bobbing. "I just want you to know that you are my son. You will always be my son. I raised you for a short while, and those years were the best of my life. Playing in the garden, teaching you the alphabet, flying kites, having picnics, staking up canvas tents in the back yard..."

"Yeah," Draco said shortly. "I - I remember, yeah. Those were the days."

"They were."

They made eye contact, and the fire was gone from both men.

He sighed. "I don't expect forgiveness. Not for a long, long time. I don't deserve it. Just let me say this. You're my son, okay? And I swear to god if I could do anything to make up for -"

"You can't." Draco's brow was furrowed, his voice quieter.

Lucius bit his lip and stared at the silver shackles clamping down on his arms. "I know. I just - if anything would make you feel better, I'm all yours."

"Nothing."

"Alright. That's better than I was hoping for."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you were such a rambunctious little kid I'd braced myself for a full on attack. Some of the blows you dealt me towards the end - man, they made my head spin."

It was a grim thing to speak so lightly of, and yet Draco almost smiled. "Right," he said. "Um, thanks."

The guard spoke up. "Guys? Time's almost up. Good going, Malfoy. Never thought you had it in you."

"Had what in me?" asked Lucius indignantly.

The chap winked. "Maturity. Emotion. Things of that sort."

Lucius scoffed, then turned back to his son. "Thank you for talking to me."

Draco stared at him for a good thirty seconds. "Yeah," he said huskily. "No problem. D'you, like, want to meet with Mum in private?"

"I'd like that. Narcissa?"

"Alright," she said, nodding with her lips pressed together. Draco wanted very much to pass her an oxygen tank, for she seemed to be having a bit of difficulty breathing. Instead, he pecked her cheek and said to his father,

"See you later...Dad."

_Dad._ Lucius reached for his son's hand, but Draco flinched.

"Don't touch me."

"Okay," he said. "Okay."

_xxx_

Neville waited outside the cafe nervously, twirling a dandelion between his thumb and forefinger. It was a trivial flower - a weed, for god's sake - but Luna was simple. She would appreciate the gesture.

They had agreed upon 12:30. It was 12:31. Neville's heart began racing. What if she stood him up? She wouldn't. And if she did, he was sure that she would have a perfectly valid reason.

He thought he saw her from a distance, and relaxed momentarily, but it turned out to be a lookalike with the same hair but dismally average eyes, and when she called out to a friend he did not hear the melodious cadences of Luna's every word.

It was 12:45 when he pulled out his phone to call her. Voicemail came up immediately, and, feeling deflated, Neville slumped onto the sidewalk curb. He was about to text her when his phone shut down. Great. His charger was at home, and he felt like crying in frustration.

He sat there, clinging to shreds of hope, until 1:15. With a final look around, he got into his car and drove off, feeling more alone than ever before. How was it that he liked this woman so much, after two chance encounters?

_When you know, you just know._ Hermione had said this the day Hannah Abbott broke up with him. For whatever reason, she was there, and though he'd been looking for the boys, she sat him down with a cup of tea and gave him the most intense (everything about her was intense, really, when she was determined enough) pep talks he'd ever had the terrifying pleasure to hear. _If it's meant to be, it will happen, all in due course. It is what it is. Drink up now, before the mug gets cold. Toast?_

By the time he reached his flat, the dandelion lay withered on his passenger seat.

And _then_, as if he didn't have enough to bemoan about his life, the door swung open to reveal Augusta Longbottom, holding a parcel and beaming at him.

"Surprise!" she cried, kissing him. "I was in the area and thought I might drop by - I've brought you a present I think you'll like! How was the date?"

"Gran, I..."

He could not produce a single sound, couldn't bear the confusion that crossed her face, and, shaking his head, he went to his room.

_x_

**Important author's note - **I am tentatively planning to introduce a new girl into Harry's life. However, I don't want to go completely canon with this, so I had a thought: would any of you lovely readers and reviewers fancy being featured in /March Malaise/ as Harry's love interest (though of course Ginny has always been endgame for him)? All that this would entail is you giving me a name/alias, physical description, personality description, and some random facts about yourself (if you have a hobby, what your favorite film is, etc.). Quite honestly you can feel free to make up your own character if for whatever reason you don't feel comfortable with this but would like to participate.

Those of you who are interested, if any, please post a review (a real review, commenting on the story) and then tell me at the end if you would like to be a part of this. The process would proceed from there, and depending on the number of candidates I will decide how to pick. Of course if i have one or none volunteers, that makes the decision easy, but I would absolutely love to see you all get involved! I will give you until August 18th, 2013 to submit your review. And of course please do keep reviewing even if you aren't interested in my little casting call of sorts.


	9. Dues

_Summary - _AU. Harry Potter lives an ordinary post-college, non-magical life. Everything is hunky dory until he realizes that he's got feelings for none other than the sister of his roommate, Ron Weasley. Moreover, she's just been swept off her feet by handsome Dean Thomas, who happens to have a grudge against Harry and Ron ever since their best friend, Hermione, punched his cousin (Draco Malfoy) in the face. Contains H/G, R/H, fluff, angst, and a fairly engaging plot line, if I do say so myself.

_Disclaimer - _I regret to inform you that I am not, cannot, and, unless science makes some major technological advances, will never be JK Rowling. I own none of the characters, terms, references, or places aside from ones I create and my storyline! Also, while I wish I had half the artistic ability of the people who are part of DeviantArt, I do not, and the cover photo is credited to user **~myavi** on said site.

_Author's note -_ The casting call for Harry's love interest (temporarily, of course) is still open until the 18th. Refer to chapter 8 for details. If you are interested, simply let me know and I will PM you personally. Also, I feel very awkward writing Fleur's dialogue, because I don't know how much is too much in terms of writing her accent...so I don't replace all "th"s with "z"s, and "i"s with "ee"s, and so on, but if you think it's excessive, please just bear with me. *uncomfortable cough* Thank you for the follows and favorites, and my heart legitimately skips a beat every time I get a new review. R&R, F&F, you all are wonderful.

_x_

_Chapter Nine: Dues_

Dean missed his girlfriend. He couldn't help resenting the fact that she'd gone away so early in their relationship, and that they had far fewer conversations than they used to. She seemed always to be with Harry, which he was not all too concerned about: Harry was his bro, and, he was certain, Ginny's as well. No, that was beside the point. The real issue was that he liked her considerably, more than he'd ever liked any girl before, and while he was a laidback guy, never the type to become overly attached or clingy, an irritability had begun to descend upon him, no doubt on account of loneliness. Not to mention the fact that work - he was a skilled artist, and had been accepted as an intern at a graphic design company - was fast approaching, and he wanted very much to spend time with her while they still could. He finally caved one evening and rung her.

"I'm so sorry I've been busy," Ginny said. "I'm - hold on - Harry! Can you get in here? Just a sec." She put the phone down, and he heard her footsteps fade out. A few seconds later, she was back, saying, "Would you chop the onions? I'm peeling potatoes, so if you wouldn't mind doing your fair share - sorry, hey. You still there?"

"Yep."

"Right. You were saying?"

"I just, erm...I really miss you."

"I miss you too. Ron! Oi! Did you just call Hermione?"

Dean waited patiently as she rambled on about her best friend, whom he gathered Ron had finally asked out, and when she returned repeated, "I _really _miss you."

"Of course I miss you too. My mum says hello, she was really bummed she couldn't meet you."

"Right. So, I'm off to work pretty soon. End of April."

"Yeah! Nervous?"

"I dunno, doesn't everyone have pre-new job jitters?"

"Don't worry, silly," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "You're incredibly talented, and you know I don't go around giving compliments excessively. I saved the first sketch you made for me, remember that?"

He shrugged sheepishly. "Yeah, I was just showing off then."

"So? That just shows what you're capable of."

If he had been nervous before, he certainly wasn't now. "Thank you. You've no idea how much that means to me, Gin."

"No problem. You were saying?"

"Anyway. How long d'you reckon you're going to stay?"

"A week, give or take. Charlie's got this bird Audrey coming, but we're not sure when that'll happen, and it's really been quite some time since we've all gotten together, so I dunno. What? Oh, Harry says hi."

"Tell him I say hi back. Do you mean...you might stay longer?"

"Well, yeah. Percy's been going crazy over this new campaign. Thankfully, it's done in a few days; we're hoping to spend some quality time with him once he's finished."

"I just - I don't know, Gin, I really miss you."

"I know, I know, I miss you too. Harry! Good lord, are you - sorry, sorry, we're just trying to start dinner for Mum, she's got a headache thanks to that horrid _Fleur_ woman ordering her this way and - ah. Hello, Fleur." There was a long pause on her end, and then she hissed into the phone, "That was so awkward. Oh my god."

Dean chuckled. "I take it she overheard your comment?"

"I - Harry, stop laughing! - yeah, we don't get along wonderfully...I may have called her Phlegm once or twice."

"God, I miss you."

"You too, babe. Why d'you keep saying that, though? It's sweet, just rather redundant, don't you think?"

"Right. My point. Er - I was wondering if maybe you might consider coming home a bit sooner? I promise I won't be a drag, we can go to the cinema, maybe grab a bite to eat at a fancy restaurant, you name it."

"Hmm." He heard the sound of a knife thudding against a cutting board. "I think I'd prefer the whole cuddle-and-watch-TV routine. And if you let me stay the night, that'd be a bonus."

Jesus _Christ_, he wanted her back. "So...is that a yes? I really hate to ask you to do this, I just - I'm not trying to steal you away or anything -"

"Hold on. Harry's being - Harry! Where the hell are you going? Giti. He just stormed out of the room for no reason," she explained in utmost annoyance. "I don't even know. Anyway, yeah. It's no problem. I mean, Audrey's supposedly dropping in tomorrow morning. I could ask if one of my brothers could drive the lads back - Bill, maybe - and I'll take the car. How about tomorrow night?"

"It's a five-hour drive."

"I know, but -"

"No," he said firmly. "Don't drive at night, you'll be tired and I don't want anything to -"

"Nothing's going to happen! But thank you, that's very chivalrous. I'll leave the morning after, then."

"It's a deal."

"Sounds good. I'll call you tomorrow morning if I get a chance, promise."

"Okay. Bye, Gin."

"Bye, Dean."

He hung up the phone and sat grinning stupidly at the blank wall in front of him for quite some time, and came to the conclusion that Ginevra Molly Weasley was officially the most wonderful woman he'd ever had the chance to meet.

Glancing down, he realized that he'd missed a series of texts while chatting with said wonderful woman, all of which were from Draco.

**I can talk now. What happened with Ginny?**

**I really need to talk to you too.**

**Dean? Are you there?**

**If I don't talk to someone about this I'm going to explode. Not in a good way.**

**Did you meet Hermione? Is that it?**

**DEAN THOMAS!**

**Dean- my dad- I visited him in prison yesterday, and I don't know what the hell to do with myself, and I just effing need you.**

**I can't forgive him. He wants me to. I can't. I can't. Mum won't tell me what he said- they talked together while I was gone- but I can't. Please help. You're the only one other than my parents who knows.**

Dean stared, open-mouthed, at the screen. "Bloody hell," he said aloud, speaking to an empty room. Because _that's_ about how sane he was in the wake of such news. "I'm a terrible person. Bloody effing _hell_," he said, hands trembling as he dialed Draco's number. "Bloody hell."

_xxx_

Harry was chatting with the twins. This was simply because they happened to be the first people he stumbled upon when fleeing the kitchen; now he sat dumb and deaf, wishing desperately that he hadn't overheard Ginny's conversation with Dean. He was most definitely jealous, and it was in the worst way imaginable.

"Harry!" Right on cue, she arrived in the doorway.

"Uh oh, what've you done?" asked George in amusement.

"I -"

"Harry James Potter!" She stood akimbo. "Why on _earth _did you just leave like that?"

"I - I finished the onions."

"No, you left half of them sitting on the counter and the chopped up bits spread about the general area! Go back and clean it up, please."

"What, now?"

"_Yes_, now! While you're at it, grab some more to replace the ones you decided to play fifty-two card pick-up with."

"That game's with _cards_, Ginny. Hence the name."

"Same diff. Fifty-two onion pieces pick-up doesn't have the same ring to it, okay?"

"Well, at least -"

"Go!" She smacked his shoulder as he left.

"The older you get, the more like Mum you become," said Fred pensively.

"It's terrifying," conceded George.

"Well, Mum's feeling ill, and Dad's having some serious talk with Bill about finances and what-have-you, and Hermione's not here, and you don't see Fleur doing anything -"

"Fleur?" Fred asked in surprise. "She's been doing loads!"

Ginny looked blankly at him. "What?"

"Yeah, I guess she had a change of heart. You know we couldn't stand her - she's hot, I'll give her that, but annoying as hell -"

"But then this morning she apologized to Mum for being a giant whining bummer, and offered to help out today."

"_What?_" Ginny began to feel incredibly guilty.

"She did all the shopping, didn't she?" continued George.

"Yeah, and she's going to cook dinner tonight, she just returned from running some errands. Said she was going to talk to you about supper - didn't she pass you in the kitchen?"

Ginny felt herself turn crimson. "I might've been saying some things to Dean on the phone when she did."

"Oh god, did you refer to her 'Phlegm' again?"

"Erm...sort of. I also called her horrid."

"Never a dull moment," said Fred, chortling. "It's alright, I'm sure she won't mind."

Conveniently, the woman in question chose that moment to walk in, see Ginny, stiffen, and back out so speedily it was as if she'd evaporated.

"Ouch," commented George. "That went well."

"Shut up," his little sister snapped, hurling a pillow at him and Fred as, with a groan of frustration, she pushed herself off the couch and stalked after Fleur, encountering Harry in the process. He glowered at her and she was left feeling very frazzled and inexplicably irritated.

Fleur was digging through a bag of groceries in the now onion pieces-free kitchen and didn't notice Ginny until she said tentatively,

"Hi!"

The older woman jumped, and then busied herself stacking cans, refusing to turn around.

"Fleur?"

"What is it?" She set a hefty bag of flour on the table way too forcefully.

"I just - um." Ginny cleared her throat. She was a rather proud person by nature, and, being a good civilian with good values and a clean track record of good deeds, was not generally accustomed to producing any sort of apology - certainly nothing past, "I'm sorry I slapped you in the face, but if you pull my hair again I'm telling Mum what really happened at Marcus Flint's birthday party."

"I am a leetle bit busy at ze moment, so if you would like to say anything, I will 'ear you out now rather zan later."

"Okay. Okay." Steeling herself, Ginny took a deep breath and started, "I'm sorry that I haven't made you feel welcome here. I guess we can be an exclusive family without meaning to. I mean, we don't really like other non-Weasley's coming in and - well, there's Harry, but he's - never mind. Scratch that." Flustered, she stared at the back of Fleur's head, willing her to turn around. When this desire failed to be fulfilled, she continued monologuing to a sheet of silky blonde hair, "I guess I was peeved that I came back wanting to spend time with my family, wanting it to be like old times, and then you were here and it just kind of messed up the dynamics. Plus, Percy's being a snob, Dad's barely been around, and when I see Mum trying so hard to make everything perfect and I just felt like you were, you know, sort of demanding - I'm sorry. I didn't consider how hard it must be for you, coming from a different country and all, and having to deal with such a large group of new people."

Fleur listened to this apology, silent, and finally slammed a hand down on the counter. She spun around, saying, "Ginny. I know zat I am not welcome here. I am not an eediot. But I love Bill, and I must prove to your mother that I am worthy of 'er son. I understand zat it must be difficult to trust me, zat I come across 'igh and mighty. I can be capable -"

"I know," Ginny said all in a rush. "I know. I'm sorry -"

"No. No more apologies. Let me finish. There is more to me zan meets ze eye. I 'ave potential. Bill was ze first - and sometimes I think ze only - one to see zis."

"I understand. I feel terrible."

Looking at her, something in Fleur's gaze softened, and she took Ginny's hands in her own. "You are just a girl, compared to me. I do not mean zat to be snobby. I mean zat to be a blessing. I am ten years older zan you, no? I understand. I 'ave a younger sister myself, Gabrielle. Young women are impulsive, quick to act, quick to judge. You are right when you say zat it is not easy for me. It is not. I am used to a much different lifestyle. In ze modeling industry..." She sighed. "It is just very different."

"Yes. I - I get it," Ginny stammered. "Well, I want you to know that I'm sorry for calling you 'Phlegm' and saying that you're horrid and, like, complaining about you a lot." So that was just an exceedingly elegant expression of regrets.

"I can be pretty 'orrid," admitted Fleur, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a half smile.

"Everybody can," replied Ginny. "Don't - it's nothing. Can we start over?"

"Certainly. If you will 'elp me with these groceries, zen all will be forgiven."

"Of course." Ginny laughed. "Just let me drag the twins in here, they've slacked off enough already."

"Agreed."

"Right. Be back in a sec."

As she moved to leave, Fleur touched her lightly on the arm. "Oh, and Ginny?"

"Yes?"

She grinned. "I like your red 'air."

_xxx_

Luna sat in the ICU, fingers intertwined with her father's.

"Please," she whispered, holding his hand to her lips. "Get better."

A nurse came in to take his vitals, then swept off with a pitying glance and badly stifled, "Poor dear."

Luna adjusted the vase of flowers nearest to her. Ever since he'd taken a turn for the worse, she'd frequented the greenhouse, blindly planting seeds until the room was filled with vibrant colors and pots and the musty scent of soil. "Daddy," she said, "I made you a garden." She felt like a tiny child.

His lips parted slightly when she said this, and his nose moved infinitesimally, as if he was smelling the medley of aromas that they'd always clung to in the absence of her mother. In an instant, though, it was gone, and he was just as still and raspy as he'd been since the day she returned, elated, from running into Neville, to find that the neighbor had called paramedics in and that he was being rushed to a hospital.

She thought she might fall over from exhaustion, but would not let herself succumb to sleep. Instead, she gripped his hand as hard as she could, hoping that she could instill her own heat, her own blood, her own heartbeat into his body; that she could return some of the the liveliness and life he'd always given her - the strange catchphrases, the quirky habits, the love. He had devoted so much of himself to her throughout the years: she could never pay her dues to him.

And so she sat at his bedside, as machines beeped and electric green lines rose and fell to the rhythm of his chest, and she thought of beaches and birthday parties and Christmases and wondered how it was fair that, if tears were made of caring too much, hers could not cure her father.


	10. Audrey

_Summary - _AU. Harry Potter lives an ordinary post-college, non-magical life. Everything is hunky dory until he realizes that he's got feelings for none other than the sister of his roommate, Ron Weasley. Moreover, she's just been swept off her feet by handsome Dean Thomas, who happens to have a grudge against Harry and Ron ever since their best friend, Hermione, punched his cousin (Draco Malfoy) in the face. Contains H/G, R/H, fluff, angst, and a fairly engaging plot line, if I do say so myself.

_Disclaimer - _I regret to inform you that I am not, cannot, and, unless science makes some major technological advances, will never be JK Rowling. I own none of the characters, terms, references, or places aside from ones I create and my storyline! Also, while I wish I had half the artistic ability of the people who are part of DeviantArt, I do not, and the cover photo is credited to user **~myavi** on said site.

_Author's note -_ So I've entertained the idea as suggested by my delightful reader, **Agirlgeek144**, of a guy entering the picture, who develops a romantic interest in Harry. However, I think I should still like to use a girl love interest, particularly since you have responded splendidly to my casting call. My apologies for a short chapter, and no R/H - unfortunately, since Ron is away, not much can happen (my fault). As usual, you're wonderful, and I love all of you, and F&F, R&R, and give someone a hug today. Hugs are good.

_x_

_Chapter Ten: Audrey_

The doorbell rang at 5:47 the following evening.

"Got it!" Charlie yelled, leaping up from the sofa and sprinting to answer.

"D'you reckon it's Audrey?" Ginny asked Harry in an undertone. Despite her promise to an entirely hypocritical Hermione not to do any schoolwork while on holiday, she had managed to sneak a stack of flashcards past her best friend's going-over of luggage, and requested the boys' help in studying. Ron became very confused from the get-go; Harry wasn't much better off.

"Isn't she supposed to come later? As in, tomorrow?"

He shrugged. "You know...zoo women."

She looked at him, eyebrows raised. "No, I don't know. Please enlighten me."

"I just mean, like...they might not be the most organized and precise people in the world."

"Mm-hm. By all means, go on, this is fascinating. Remind me when you became such an expert on the world of 'zoo women'?"

"Just...okay?" he said, and she laughed.

Mrs. Weasley hustled downstairs, having made a speedy recovery, and hastily mopped up the already-gleaming kitchen island, shooed the twins away from an open jar of cookies, and ordered Percy to conceal his bird's nest of brochures, ballpoint pens, and miscellaneous papers. "Right. We have guests, now, so you'd better be on your best behavior. Ginny, your shirt's a bit too low cut, could you pull it up in front, please?"

Harry coughed, cheeks going crimson, and determinedly ogled his feet until he had gained his composure.

"Excuse me, Mum," Ginny snapped, "I'm not in ninth grade anymore!"

"It's just good to be presentable, is all," said Molly, darting forward and patting down Harry's hair. His 'do was a source of much frustration for her: it had the unique ability to resemble an electrocuted badger regardless of hair products, water, combs, hair dryers, and any other objects that his honorary mother had utilized in her numerous futile attempts over the years.

"Who is it?" asked Ron.

"Well, it must be Audrey, mustn't it?" his mother replied. "Go get Bill and Fleur! Where's your dad?"

George jerked his head towards their bedroom. "Napping."

"Do wake him up, please!"

"On it."

"Mum?" Charlie walked in with a nervous smile. "This is Audrey."

Audrey Miller was fairly tall, head barely an inch below his. She was quite muscular, with an athlete's body and scars akin to Charlie's dispersed across equally tan skin. Her eyes were azure, wavy chestnut locks cropped short, and she was wearing running shorts and a worn sweatshirt. "Hi," she said. "Sorry I'm late. Or early."

"You're early," Percy said crossly. "We were expecting you tomorrow."

"Ah. You must be Percy," she said, shaking his hand as Charlie grimaced.

"Yes," he said shortly. "I have a lot of work to -"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," she said. "I'm sure this isn't what you're like every time you visit your family."

This statement was met with a collective nod on behalf of his siblings and Harry.

"I see, then. Well, good luck with whatever work you're doing."

He stared at her for an uncomfortable amount of time, knitting his forehead as if he'd never encountered someone so easygoing and difficult to annoy, then cleared his throat and said, "Erm, yes. I'll see you at dinner?"

"Sure." She made a face at Charlie and turned warmly to the others. "Let me guess - Ginny?"

Ginny grinned. "Nice to meet you. I have a deep appreciation for anyone who makes Perce even more awkward, so you're well in my good books."

"I should hope so. You're...Harry?"

"Nice to meet you."

She went round, introducing herself, and apologized wholeheartedly to Mrs. Weasley: "I am _so_ sorry I didn't come on time - I'm very unpredictable sometimes with organizing and planning, but you get used to it."

"A calendar could help you with that," Percy spoke up from his desk.

After casting him a strange expression (though she was clearly trying hard not to let him get under her skin, even the Supreme Buddha himself would not be able to remain unperturbed for more than five minutes in the studious Weasley's presence), she glanced over at Charlie, and mouthed, _What now?_

"Listen," said Fred, slinging an arm casually round her shoulder, "you get used to it. Percy's a git. Eventually you'll just see him as an obnoxious horsefly, the sort that buzzes round your food and ears and manages to escape no matter how hard you try to squash it? Believe me, George and I have tried to squash him many times, but alas." He shook his head. "It's a lost cause. The metaphorical fly swatter still eludes us."

"You must be one of the twins."

He removed his arm - Charlie was glowering in his direction - and drew away with an exaggerated gasp. "How did you guess? Was it my undeniable charisma? My excessive wit? My handsome visage? My -"

"So, Audrey," said Bill loudly, "what do you do at the zoo?"

"Well, I'm actually the owner's niece, so I've grown up there. I have every procedure, every animal, every system, building, and manual memorized. I must say, though, my favorites are the cats. This guy?" She elbowed Charlie. "You should see the effect he has on those king-sized felines. Never seen anything like it."

Charlie's ears flushed red.

"Well, you've arrived just in time for dinner," said Molly, motioning for them to follow her to the kitchen. "Take a seat, take a seat. I was about to bring out some cheese and crackers, would you like something to drink?"

"Just water's fine," said Audrey, then asked Ginny, "So what's it like being the only girl in the family?"

Ginny gestured to Percy, who was muttering furiously to himself and slamming on the keyboard; Fred had a giant kaleidoscope glued to his face and yelped in triumph as it produced a loud popping sound when twisted, followed by a spring-loaded miniature fist that he narrowly avoided. Ron was beaming at his phone, ostensibly texting Hermione, and Charlie, chatting with Fleur about the zoo, imitated cat hisses reminiscent of a burst pipe. "Suffice to say that I put up with a lot," she said drily.

"Six older brothers does seem excessive," conceded Audrey. "What about you, Fleur?"

Fleur, who had managed to escape her conversation with Charlie, reluctantly joined the other two. "I 'ave one sister," she said shortly.

"Ah. That's nice." Audrey frowned, appearing confused when she did not say anything else. "So...what's your sister's name?"

"Gabrielle. Gabi."

"That's a cute name!"

"It means 'woman of God,'" Fleur said curtly. "I must talk to my boyfriend now." And with that, she retreated to the other side of the room, where Bill stood with his mother.

"_Wow_," said Audrey. "That was unprecedented. I can't say I've been met with such animosity before."

"Don't take it personally," Ginny said, waving a hand, "she's really shy like that. It only seems snobby. I think she's just defensive, yeah? This not being her family, and all. She's a model, too, so the culture's way different here."

"I can certainly see that."

"Mm." Ginny took a sip of water. "What about you? Got any brothers?"

"I had one, but, uh, he passed away last spring."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's fine." Audrey stared fixedly at the marble countertop, twisting the fringe of her napkin between slender bronzed fingers. "I've had to come to terms with it."

"How did he...?"

"Died in combat. He was a good soldier, drafted straight out of high school."

"That's - nobody should have to go through that. How old was he?"

"My age. We were fraternal twins. We fought a lot, boy, but we'd do anything for each other."

"What was his name?"

"Owen."

"I'm really - that really sucks."

"It's okay. If I've learned anything from this experience, it's to value each and every person in your life. They're put there for a reason. Be good to your brothers. You never know what might happen to them, or to the people you love."

Dean flashed into Ginny's mind. He was so gentle, so kind, and she knew she hadn't been pulling her weight in their relationship lately. Dean. Dean Thomas. He was flawless, he was understanding, he needed her. They were best friends; they'd hit it off from the first day; he drew her pictures, she made him breakfast; he picked her up from class, she went out and got groceries for him. "Yeah," she said. But then her gaze was involuntarily drawn to a certain black-haired chap laughing with Fred by the sink. God dammit. This needed to stop.

"Anyway," said Audrey light-heartedly, "I'm excited to meet your family!"

"We're a unique bunch, that's for sure."

"How is Harry related? Is he your -"

"No, no, no. He's, uh, he's a family friend. He and Ron have been best friends for years."

"Oh. I was going to say cousin - stupid of me, given the blatant lack of red hair."

"Right. Er...yeah."

At this point, a deafening, high-pitched screech shattered everybody's eardrums. They all jumped, save for Mrs. Weasley, who instantly marched over to her room.

"That would be the twins," Charlie, having joined his sister and friend, said to Audrey. She nodded and gave the most insincere, "Cool!" that Ginny had ever heard.

"George Weasley!" Molly yelled. Her husband materialized from the room, shirt all mussed up. George attempted to follow, but was thwarted when an unseen force (his mother) reached out and yanked him back in, slamming the door.

"Hi, I'm Arthur," he said as the muffled sounds of a shouting match echoed ever so mellifluously in the background. "You must be Audrey?"

"Indeed." Audrey paused. "You've, um, got a bit of marmalade on your chin. Just right there."

"Where?" He swiped at his face with a dishcloth. "Did I get it?" Fred sniggered; Charlie glared at him.

"You're good now."

"Thank you. Have you all met, then? I'm afraid I was all tuckered out - late night last night, couldn't fall asleep - and didn't mean to doze off. We weren't expecting you, though."

"I know, I'm so sorry -"

"It's fine, just fine. I've been dying to meet you." The affable man beamed, taking a large bite of cheese, and clapped Charlie on the shoulder. "She's just as lovely as you described."

"Ahem."

Audrey spun around: George stood there, hands thrust sheepishly into his pockets. Molly had an ironclad grip on his elbow.

"Apparently, I have to apologize for my so-called 'tomfoolery,' particularly as I am a 'grown man,' by _some_ people's definitions. I'm George, by the way."

"I surmised as much."

"Anywho. I'm sorry, so very sorry, for thinking that a horn like this" - he held up a blinding contraption of zigzags and neon stripes, which appeared to be some sort of noise-maker; Fred snickered - "would be the most effective way to wake Dad up."

"It's fine," said Audrey. Harry thought that she was taking everything very well, considering the circumstances.

"Good." Then impatiently, to his mother, "Was that satisfactory?"

"It will do. Dear, would you mind setting the table?" she asked of Arthur.

"Will do, Mollywobbles," he said, yawning.

Harry choked; the gingers all looked more or less disgruntled, though not surprised. "_Mollywobbles?_" he asked as Mrs. Weasley passed him on the way to the fruit basket. She did not respond, and he could hardly blame her.

_xxx_

Neville was crossing the street near the hospital, lost in thought, when he looked up and saw - could it be? - Luna.

He rushed over, barely avoiding a lorry rumbling down an inappropriately narrow road, and grabbed her arm.

"Wha - _Neville?_" Her eyes widened just as they had when they first met.

"Luna! Are you - what are - where were - our date - ?"

"Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry," she said. He took in her appearance: her heart-shaped face was wan and exhausted; her jumper was wrinkled. "My father took a turn for the worse and I've spent the past few days with him in the ICU."

"I'm so sorry," he said immediately. "Is he okay?"

She sighed. "The doctors say he's stable, but that doesn't mean much. He's alive, and I think he might have heard me talking to him yesterday. Past that..." She raised her hands in surrender. "I don't know. This is the first time I've been out." As she spoke, she absentmindedly wound her waist-length blonde hair into a side braid, tying it off deftly with a patterned elastic.

All resentment regarding the fact that she'd stood him up gone, he asked urgently, "Is there anything I can do?"

"If you'd come with me to get some coffee and a donut, it would be much appreciated," she said.

"Of course."

They walked down the sidewalk, making small talk. She moved to open the door of a cafe when Neville stopped her.

"I'm taking you out for a proper breakfast, how's that?"

"My father -"

"The hospital will ring you if anything happens, won't they?"

"Well, yes, but -"

"I'll take you straight there if they call."

"Neville, you don't have to -"

"I absolutely do. C'mon, give me half an hour."

She fell into step next to him, and though he continued to look straight ahead he could not help but notice how very beautiful she was, even after days of no sleep, and how for a breathless stretch of five seconds, she could not seem to tear her gaze away from him. As they rounded the corner, he swiftly reached down and interlaced their fingers. The movement was the most natural one in the world, and she squeezed his hand slightly, a nonverbal _thank you_. He rubbed his thumb gently along hers, and they stayed like this until they reached the diner where, at his insistence, he paid for the meal he'd wanted with her all along. Better late than never.


	11. Maybe

_Summary - _AU. Harry Potter lives an ordinary post-college, non-magical life. Everything is hunky dory until he realizes that he's got feelings for none other than the sister of his roommate, Ron Weasley. Moreover, she's just been swept off her feet by handsome Dean Thomas, who happens to have a grudge against Harry and Ron ever since their best friend, Hermione, punched his cousin (Draco Malfoy) in the face. Contains H/G, R/H, fluff, angst, and a fairly engaging plot line, if I do say so myself.

_Disclaimer - _I regret to inform you that I am not, cannot, and, unless science makes some major technological advances, will never be JK Rowling. I own none of the characters, terms, references, or places aside from ones I create and my storyline! Also, while I wish I had half the artistic ability of the people who are part of DeviantArt, I do not, and the cover photo is credited to user **~myavi** on said site. *In this chapter, I use a quote (modified, but not my words nonetheless) from the books, which is, of course, credited to the wonderful JKR.

_Author's note -_ First of all - thank you for your submissions, they were all wonderful. After much deliberation, I've selected whose character I'm going to use, though she will not show up for a bit. I might run another casting call sometime in the future - perhaps once I've reached, say, 100 followers or 10k views, as I am about halfway to both of those marks!

_x_

_Chapter Eleven: Maybe_

The voice on the other end sounded like a robot. They would not tell her what was going on, just that she ought to return to the hospital immediately.

Trembling, Luna gathered her things together. She was still living with Xenophilius, and though the house was a living memory of what she was on the precipice of losing, she needed to get away from the hospital's blank white walls. When she went to the car, feeling as if she was floating through some surreal reality dictated by a fear she could not bear, she discovered that it would not turn on. Uttering a bad word for probably the third time in her entire life, she leaned up against it hopelessly.

Why had she left just like that? Why hadn't she stayed with her father? An irrational anger built up inside her, an anger at everything, at her mother for not being there, at Neville for unintentionally tearing her away, at herself for letting him.

Neville. The idea came to her: it was stupid, foolish, and perhaps he would not care, but it was something. She picked up her mobile and called.

He answered on the third ring. "Hi!"

"Neville," she said breathlessly. "Are you - my dad - he's -" And she dissolved into tears.

"Hang in there. Give me five, ten minutes tops."

He hung up, and she was left clutching the phone like it was her last lifeline.

_xxx_

8 o'clock Saturday morning saw Harry sitting in the kitchen anxiously.

"You're up early, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, coming in and busily lighting up the stove. "I was counting on you lads sleeping until noon at the earliest." He handed her a carton of eggs, which she began deftly cracking into a large mixing bowl. "Is something the matter?"

"No," said Harry. "Would you like me to put the toast in?"

"Not until I've finished the eggs. Pass me the milk? I've some muffins in the freezer, if you'd begin defrosting them."

"No problem." He removed the tray and set them on the table. "Should I pop these in the oven now?"

"Wait until they've thawed a little, then do it." She beamed fondly at him, giving a sigh. "My, you _have_ grown up, haven't you?"

"Er - that's what generally happens, yeah."

"Seems like just yesterday you were a -"

Her stream of nostalgic anecdotes, bound to mortify him, were thankfully cut short by the arrival of Fleur.

"Good morning," Molly said, whisking the yolks together. "Sleep well?"

"Better zan I 'ave before, yes," Fleur replied. "Ginny is leaving today?"

"At Dean's request, she is. I guess he misses her a lot."

"Dean does not sound like a good boyfriend," Fleur said, piling oranges on the counter for juice. "If I were Ginny I would put my foot down. Family is ze most important, no?"

Harry felt a rush of deep gratitude for the woman, and enthusiastically jumped up to help her, pretending not to notice when Mrs. Weasley said, "Yes, well, not everyone can be perfect boyfriend material. Ginny positively raves about him. I'm thinking of visiting soon, just in case."

"You should," said Fleur approvingly, and plugged the blender in.

Molly hummed to herself, then turned suddenly to Harry and said eagerly, "Why, you know him well! What's he like?"

"Who, Dean?"

"Of course."

"Um." This was uncomfortable; he answered reluctantly, "He's really nice. Smart. Talented."

"Is 'e 'andsome?" Fleur asked.

"Quite," Harry responded shortly.

"Hm." Molly stood akimbo for a moment before launching into action once more, ladling scrambled eggs onto the frying pan. "Harry, do you want over-easy?"

"No, don't go to the trouble, it's fine."

"Morning," said George, yawning as he walked into the kitchen. "Looks like you've got enough help as it is, I think I'll sit here and text Angelina. Don't mind me." He nicked an orange from Harry, tossing it up in the air and winking, then spread himself out over the span of three stools.

"Angelina Johnson?" said Mrs. Weasley. "This is the first I've heard of her in years! If I recall correctly, she was your prom -"

"Speak no more of it!" said George, flushing.

"Dear, are you sure -"

"Yes!"

"It's just that after what -"

"Stop it," he said, irritated, and flapped the newspaper open. "We have a date on Thursday."

"Well, congratulations," said Molly. "Just don't embarrass your -"

"It's _fine_," her son snapped, then got up and stalked to the living room. Being attached only by a wide empty doorframe, this wasn't the most effective of getaways, but, as Ron often said, it was the principle of the thing.

"What 'appened at zis prom?" inquired Fleur.

"Oh, he -"

"As the man's twin, I feel the obligation to protect his reputation around here," Fred interjected loudly, arms outspread in welcome. "Morning."

Eyebrows raised, Mrs. Weasley took advantage of his open hands to shove several tumblers into them.

"No, really, I'm good," he said hastily. "I'm actually tuckered out from -"

"At least one of you has to help, Ginny's leaving -"

"So naturally this is the prime opportunity to force-feed her, because we all know she and Hermione starve back at the flat."

"I just like to make sure my children are well taken care of!" said Mrs. Weasley defensively. Harry snickered slightly, and watched as Fred, resigned to his fate, went into the dining room to set the table.

"I think zat is perfectly acceptable," said Fleur. "Not everyone is lucky enough to 'ave such an attentive _maman_, you know." This she said swiftly, as though getting the words out there before she could regret them.

Molly looked at her for a full thirty seconds; her gaze softened, and she nodded. "Thank you, Fleur."

Ginny entered the kitchen at this point, pulling her hair absentmindedly into a messy bun. "Morning," she said brightly, coming over to help Harry with the muffins and pecking her mother on the cheek en route.

"Good morning, darling," said Mrs. Weasley. "Are you sure you want to leave?"

"_Yes_, Mum." She groaned in frustration and grabbed Harry's wrist. His heart jumped, caught off guard; she let go quickly, muttering, "You were about to burn yourself. Here, use a potholder, for god's sake."

"Yeah, yeah," he said distractedly, ducking his head as he carefully pulled a muffin tin out of the oven. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's your own skin that almost got singed," she said; then, to her mother, "So I thought I'd leave sometime before noon."

"Sounds fine to me. I was really counting on you all to be here, that's all."

"I know, I feel really bad, but Dean is pining away for me back home and with work coming up..."

"No, I understand."

_I don't,_ thought Harry sullenly, at the same time that Ginny said in relief, "Thanks. If you don't mind, I'm going to take a shower before we eat. It'll be fast."

"No problem," Molly replied. "Come down when you're done."

"I will."

And Ginny waltzed off, leaving Harry feeling confused and decidedly disgruntled.

_xxx_

"That's not okay," said Dean heatedly, clutching the phone to his ear. "It's just not, you know that, right?"

"I can't do jack about it," Draco said pleadingly. "Mum's trying hard to forgive him, and I can't do anything!"

"Bullocks! You can talk to an attorney, get them to vouch for you! It's too soon, Dray. You can't - I can't stand to see you like this."

"I'm fine! So what if I'm a bit shaken up? Isn't that natural?"

"What's _natural_ is you having nothing to do with a man like that."

"I'm stuck!"

"You're not!"

"I can't do anything!"

"YOU EFFING CAN!"

Draco's end of the line fell silent.

"I'm sorry."

Nothing.

"Draco?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have - I shouldn't have blown up like that."

"You shouldn't have. It doesn't make things easier on me, you know."

"I'm _sorry._"

"It's okay."

"I just feel like sometimes you forget that it affected me too. I hate him more than you ever could. Do you have _any_ idea - ?"

"Yes, I do. And I regret, and Mum regrets, and I'm sure Lucius regrets, that we dragged you into it. Every day. Every single bloody day. We all know it was our fault. You shouldn't have had to get involved."

"I _wanted_ to get involved."

"You shouldn't have, though."

"I love you and your mum."

"That doesn't mean you should have -"

"It's over now, isn't it?" Resigned, Dean collapsed onto a large packing box. "There's nothing to be done. I _am_ involved, whether you like it or not." He paused. "Dray?"

"Yeah."

"Be careful, okay?"

"I will."

"Don't..." He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing down the massive lump in his throat that had been there ever since he witnessed his uncle's abuse, and that only resurfaced when he had to think about it again. "Don't give in too easily."

"I won't."

"Okay."

"You're my best friend, Dean, you know that?"

He felt suddenly small, small and very sad, and said simply, "You too, mate. You too."

_xxx_

Ron acted shifty as he and Harry chopped up a loaf of bread.

"Why are you up so early?" asked Harry, reaching for a knife.

"Why are _you_ up so early?" retorted Ron testily. "Here." He passed him a stick of butter and ceramic container. "Put it in here."

"Lemme heat it up first. Really though," said Harry, heading to the microwave, "is there something wrong?"

"I just - don't hate me, mate, but...I've been thinking, and I reckon I might go back with Ginny."

Harry almost dropped the dish. "_What? _Why?"

"It's Hermione. I really miss her, man, and I don't want the beginning of our relationship to be Skype calls and texts. I want to see her in person."

"So you're just going to leave me here?"

"Nobody's said you can't come along!"

"Ron! You told your mum, your entire family, that you'd be here! How often do we all get to be together like this?" This was admittedly not his primary complaint against his friend's announcement. Still, it wasn't as if he could say how he actually felt - namely, quite abandoned and increasingly upset.

"I don't feel good about it, trust me. I've barely got to spend time with Dad or Bill because, well, you know."

"You've been talking to Hermione."

The microwave beeped, and Ron extracted a plate from the cupboard. "I'm telling you, this is less than ideal. I just really don't want to mess things up with her."

"Who, your mum or Hermione?"

"Who do you think?"

Harry scrutinized his best friend for a moment, then filled the container with now-melted butter. "Knife, please," he said, and Ron silently handed it over.

"Come with us," he said presently. "I feel bad."

"Breakfast's almost ready," Harry said, turning his back.

"Wait!" Ron stared at him earnestly. "You've got to understand -"

"I do," said Harry quietly. "You and Ginny are running off back into your paramours' arms and -"

"You're not bitter, are you, now?"

"No." He glowered sullenly down at his hands. "I'm fine." And it was supremely evident to both parties that he was lying.

_xxx_

Neville leapt out of his car, taking Luna by the arm and guiding her into the passenger seat, where she sat dumbly, purse on lap.

"What did they say?" he asked finally, when Luna seemed to have relaxed somewhat.

"That I should get down there as soon as possible."

"So it could be good."

She stared out the window, at the blinking red lights and the crowds of people walking down the street, leading normal, if dull, lives.

"Luna?"

There had been two minutes of silence on her part, and she didn't even realize it. The passage of time was warped, insignificant. Biting her lip, she closed her eyes, fingernails digging into the cloth bag full of useless junk - an iPod, a tube of chapstick, a miniature packet of Kleenex, barely touched. Well, that might end up coming in handy.

"Hey," he said gently. "It could be good."

She blinked rapidly, sniffling and leaning against the door. "Maybe," she whispered.

_xxx_

Noon came around, and with it a flurry of goodbyes and won't-you-please-come-agains and I'll-stay-in-touches and look-after-yourselves and luggage being dragged downstairs and people mysteriously tripping over their own feet (the twins always seemed to be suspiciously within the vicinity of said victims). Harry heroically kept his cool.

"It was nice to meet you," said Audrey, fist-bumping a taken-aback Ron. "I hope to see you again."

"Yeah," he said, and made a strange whimpering, choking noise as Fleur approached them.

She kissed Ginny on the cheek. Ron came forth hopefully, but she ignored him and he somehow managed to stumble and topple onto the ground.

"Sorry," he said, face burning.

"Well...goodbye." And she backpedaled furiously a safe distance - a good five yards - away.

"Hold on," Ginny said, "I think I left something inside, let me just grab it."

She raced past Harry, who was lurking in the entryway, and then, to his surprise, doubled back.

"Hey," she said. "I was just getting my hair dryer."

"Cool."

She stood before him, twisting her hands together in a very Hermione-ish way.

"I'll see you around then," he said, once she had made the situation sufficiently awkward.

"Yeah," said Ginny.

"Um...have a safe trip."

"You too."

"Well."

She gave a sad sort of smile, and hugged him, a proper hug this time, one hand resting lightly on his neck. He felt his heartbeat accelerate when she didn't let go immediately, and when her grasp slackened, he did the most idiotic thing he'd done in his entire life.

He kissed her.

_xxx_

"Luna Lovegood," she said faintly.

The nurse glanced up at Neville. "And he is...?"

"My boyfriend," said Luna, urgency turning her head wild. She noticed his shocked expression all too late and said in distress, "You're - I just - I panicked - I didn't mean to -"

"Shh," he said, as they were led down the hallway, and rested his lips tenderly on her head. "It's fine."

She began hyperventilating slightly as the assistant opened the door, and reached for Neville's hand, clutching it so hard he winced.

"Is he okay?" he asked, though he knew there would be no answer for him either.

He was right; the young woman said nothing, and merely gestured for them to go inside.

The curtain opened slowly, and there was Xenophilius. He was sitting up in bed, eyes bright, smile wide, surrounded by the garden she'd planted for him.

"Oh my god," she murmured. "He's - he's better now?"

"He is."

"He's - oh my -"

"Luna!" cried Xenophilius, and never before had his voice sounded so strong.

"Daddy," she exclaimed, throwing herself at him. He wheezed slightly, but received the hug with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

"I would be careful -" the nurse began. Neville shook his head at her.

"Let them be," he said.

"I don't know if that's -"

"Give them five minutes, will you?"

She wrestled with herself. Neville's sincerity, his blatantly obvious integrity, overcame her, as it overcame everyone, and she nodded. "Five minutes."

They retreated, leaving Luna to reunite with her father and tell him about everything that had happened while he was sick. And as they listened just outside in the hallway, Neville was somewhat pleased to discover that he was a substantial part of her account.

_xxx_

Her mouth was soft, and after a split second of hesitation, yielded beneath his. It was blissful oblivion; he was consumed by every fiber of her being; she was the only real thing in the world.

And then it was over.

"I am so, so sorry -" Harry started huskily.

But she gave a little horrified gasp, pushed him away, forcefully, and retreated backwards at the speed of light until her spine hit the doorway. Blindly, she spun around, sprinted down the steps and out to the car, and was gone, maybe forever.


	12. That Boy, That Girl

_Summary - _AU. Harry Potter lives an ordinary post-college, non-magical life. Everything is hunky dory until he realizes that he's got feelings for none other than the sister of his roommate, Ron Weasley. Moreover, she's just been swept off her feet by handsome Dean Thomas, who happens to have a grudge against Harry and Ron ever since their best friend, Hermione, punched his cousin (Draco Malfoy) in the face. Contains H/G, R/H, fluff, angst, and a fairly engaging plot line, if I do say so myself.

_Disclaimer - _I regret to inform you that I am not, cannot, and, unless science makes some major technological advances, will never be JK Rowling. I own none of the characters, terms, references, or places aside from ones I create and my storyline! Also, while I wish I had half the artistic ability of the people who are part of DeviantArt, I do not, and the cover photo is credited to user **~myavi** on said site.

_Author's note -_ Bit of a short chapter, I'm sorry. Hope it's good enough content to satisfy you all, seeing as I spent so much time on the last one, thought it'd be nice to put in a quick update even if it's not as long. Also - I've gotten almost 7k views, thank you so much, that really makes me happy! Definitely considering a contest (perhaps for me to write a one-shot for the lucky winner) once I reach 10k. I will post more soon!

_x_

_Chapter 12: That Boy, That Girl_

Harry spent the remainder of the day ignoring Ron's flurry of texts and apologies, and later discovered an deluge of missed calls - 19, to be exact - from Hermione after he turned his phone back on. It did not take much detective work to presume that Ginny had recounted the story to her best friend.

"'Arry, are you alright?" Fleur queried, coming into his room to collect a pile of laundry. "You 'ave been quiet ever since Ginny and Ron left."

"Oh, yeah. I'm, uh, tired." He grimaced.

"May I?" She gestured to the bed.

"Sure."

Fleur sat down; it would seem that Ginny had rendered him permanently speechless, for he had no idea how to talk and, even if he could, what to say. She thought for a moment, then spoke up, "What is zat saying? 'Penny for your thoughts?'"

Harry chuckled weakly. "That's it."

"So?"

"I don't think I should talk about it."

"_Mon dieu,_ 'Arry, don't be like zat."

"Like what?"

"Like ze - what is the word? - 'angsty,' I am thinking - ze angsty teenage boy who pretends nothing is wrong when something is clearly not right."

"What?"

"I _know_ boys. I 'ave spent time with Gabi's boyfriends. You are better zan zat."

"I - I mean, yeah, something happened, but I really can't talk about it."

"To just anyone? No. But I am not just anyone. I know I seem dumb and cold. I am not, zough. I 'ave been through much to get 'ere, and I am ze last person to judge. 'Owever, if you are not wanting to talk about it, I will respect zat."

He struggled with himself. Fleur seemed a decent woman - more than decent, really. Decency aside, if he told anyone what happened, he would have to admit that it hadn't gone well, and he had no desire to face that reality yet. "I'm...I'm good."

"Fine." She stood up and bobbed her head at him.

Her footsteps faded away down the hallway, and then suddenly she was back, poking her head in. "I am just curious, forgive me...does zis 'ave anything to do with Ginny?"

"What?" Panic filled his chest. "I..."

She nodded. "I thought as much."

_xxx_

"Aren't you going to see Dean?" asked Hermione, surprised, when Ginny arrived with Ron at their apartment.

"I need to talk to you," Ginny muttered. "ASAP."

"Okay, give me a sec."

Ginny glanced at Ron, who was gazing at Hermione, and rolled her eyes. "Of course. I forgot. Have a nice reunion." She stalked off to her room.

"She's rather testy, isn't she?" said Hermione worriedly. "I'd better -"

"Are you _serious?_" Ron said.

"What? She's your sister, don't you care?"

"Of course I care, but I just so happen to care about you a great deal as well."

"Sorry, sorry. Distracted." She smiled warmly at him. "I'm really glad you're back, though. I missed you."

"You can't imagine how mutual the feeling is," he said. "Now will you effing let me kiss you?"

_xxx_

The twins came to find Harry before dinnertime.

"Knock knock," said George.

"Who's there?" asked Fred, plopping himself down on Harry's suitcase.

"A little divvy who's been sulking in his room all day."

"A little divvy who's been sulking in his room all day who?"

Beaming at an unamused Harry, they said simultaneously, "_Harry Potter!_"

"Really?"

"Come on, you've got to admit that was clever." George sat down, cross-legged on the floor, and propped his chin on his hand expectantly. "Spill."

"There's nothing to spill."

"Of course there is, don't be daft. We've put up with Ron's histrionics for years."

"Funny," added Fred, "I do believe we're the only ones in the family who never went through that awful phase of hormonal hubris."

"I asked Mum about that. She said we were born hormonally hubristic."

"Hm. I'll take that as a compliment. Oedipus Rex was pretty badass, and _he's_ infamous for his hubris."

"Yeah, but he also slept with his mother," Harry felt obliged to point out.

Fred frowned at him. "No need to criticize. But seriously" - he came to join his brother on the floor - "we're not thick. We know you've got something on your mind. Tell us."

"You know, you're lovely. You really are. You're wonderful friends, and you'll always be my best mates."

"Thanks, we get that a lot."

"_However_, trustworthy you are not."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're loyal, yeah. I won't deny that. It's just that you never seemed to take things seriously. Maybe it's your personality. I can't trust you on this one, that's all."

"Wow. That hurts."

"I'm sorry -"

"...And also makes us want to know more." George nudged Harry's foot. "Did something happen with you and Ickle Ronniekins?"

"We will gladly beat him up for you," said Fred soberly. "He was moderately insufferable this time around."

"I mean, he'd been trying to win Hermione for ages, so I reckon now he's finally got her -"

The twins gasped concomitantly. "He _got_ her? Since when?"

"Er..."

"I demand you tell us what happened."

"I didn't know he hadn't told you -"

"Irrelevant. They got together? Like, officially?"

"She called him and they talked and yes, it's official."

"Blimey. First Ginny, then Ron, eh?"

The mere mention of her name was enough to turn his stomach upside-down.

"Well, then. We'll be having a little discussion with him. Right now, as a matter of fact." Fred pulled out his mobile.

"About what?" asked Harry. "Isn't that sort of excessive?"

"You know, it's generally the older brother's job to do the whole 'if you hurt her, I'll hurt you,' but seeing as Ron's not our baby sister, I think the rule can be adjusted slightly."

"What, so you're going to threaten him if he hurts Hermione?"

"Precisely." George winked at Harry and told Fred, "Go for it."

"Guys, stop," said Charlie sternly, entering the room. "Let Ron be happy."

"Eavesdropping, are we?" Fred put the phone away nonetheless and moved over, patting the carpet next to him. Charlie sat down glumly.

"Why should we let Ronald come out unscathed, now?" asked George.

"Because not every relationship works out like his and Hermione's could, so for god's sake, let them breathe before you start trying to interfere."

"Did something happen with Audrey, then?" George said keenly.

Charlie flushed. "No. It's just that, well, she's hitting it off with..." He looked quite pained. "With Percy."

Fred choked. "_Our _Percy? As in, Weatherby?" This was a name that came about when the family had gone to a football match with Arthur's old friend, who just so happened to be an esteemed executive, and to whom Percy spent the entirety of the outing sucking up. Unfortunately, it panned out such that the "big cheese," as the twins dubbed him, remembered everyone's name but the one brother who'd actually given a damn about his position.

"Indeed," Charlie said grimly. "No idea how that came about."

"Maybe she'll loosen him up, at least," George offered hopefully. "Seeing as they're polar opposites."

"I really thought she fancied me."

"I know, mate," said Harry sympathetically. "How do you know she doesn't like you still? What if she's just being friendly?"

"I mean...she's friendly, yeah. You don't see her shooting the breeze with Bill, though, do you?"

"Well..."

"It's fine." Charlie sighed heavily and stood up. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Poor bloke," Fred commented as he left.

"Poor _Audrey's_ more like it," said George. "I don't think she knows what she's gotten herself into."

"Either that, or she's just plain mad."

"Aren't all women?"

"Amen. Coming, Harry?"

"I don't know..."

"'Course he is. C'mon." Fred jerked his head at his brother: they seized Harry from under the arms and tossed him casually into the hallway in one practiced motion. "Ah, glad to see you've changed your mind. How sensible of you."

Harry did not know what to say to that - then again, he did not know what to say to anything at this point - and it was a fact, really, that it was pointless to argue with the Weasley twins. Seeing as he much preferred walking on his own two legs to being inelegantly dragged down the corridor by Fred and George, he begrudgingly got to his feet and followed them into the living room.

_xxx_

"Ginny?"

Ginny was pacing, one hand held over her mouth, looking terrified.

Hermione began to feel acutely concerned. "_Ginny?_ What happened?"

"We - we kissed."

Hermione sucked in a breath. "Who, Dean?" _Please say it was Dean, oh god _please_._

"No." Ginny stopped moving; her voice cracked as she said, "Harry."

_Okay. Okay. This is fine. This is - I can deal with this situation_. "Right." Hermione tried not to look alarmed, and said comfortingly, "Hey, it's going to be okay. Come here."

Ginny slumped into Hermione's arms, then pulled away and sat limply on the floor. "I don't...it's probably my fault. I hugged him, he probably got the wrong impression..."

"_Was_ it the wrong impression, though?"

Her head jerked up. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Ginny," Hermione said very carefully, "I need you to know that I think Harry still has feelings for you."

"No way! You know, I might have guessed as much, seeing as he just tried to eat my face off, but thank you oh so much for putting that out there. That's exactly the reassurance I needed."

"Oi! Don't be that girl," said Hermione sharply.

"What girl?"

"The stereotypical chick flick girl whose deep-seeded insecurities manifest themselves in denial and emotional volatility."

"Swallowed a dictionary, have we?"

"Look, there's no need to be so cross with me," said Hermione, voice rising in pitch as she became irritated. "I'm only trying to help."

"I don't think anyone can."

"If you want me to leave -"

"No, please stay."

"Alright then. The question remains, though: do you have feelings for Harry?"

"I don't know," said Ginny hoarsely, biting her lip. "You know how it was. I had a crush on my older brother's best friend. It happens to everyone."

"Then what happened?"

"What _happened _is that I grew up, and realized it was some silly fantasy, and that I was basically a sister to him. What _happened_ is that I dated other people, saw what life had to offer, went to uni, and what just _had _to happen is that I met the man of my dreams, and then ended up snogging my childhood crush."

"So Dean really is the man of your dreams?"

"I mean..." Her arms flailed around helplessly as she tried to find words. "I just..."

"It's okay."

"He's incredible, Hermione. He's been through so much, he's so strong, and you wouldn't think it but he's very passionate about the things he believes in. We've talked a few times, just vaguely, about Draco, and the look that he gets...he really cares. He cares so much. And he cares about me, and I know that anyone he cares about is just the bee's knees in his eyes, and I'm the luckiest girl alive to have someone so caring and handsome and kind. He's become my best friend."

"But you just kissed your other best friend."

"Yes. Then there's that."

They were both quiet. Ginny fancied Bath & Body Works candles, and in honor of spring's recent arrival had gone out and splurged on virtually their entire spring candle line. Hermione had put in place a strict rule that she was permitted only to burn two large candles or four miniature ones at a time, for the intense smell tended to pervade the entire flat. On the bright side, their thin little flames were excellent staring-into-space objects.

"I don't know," Ginny finally whispered. "He's always been so out of my league that I guess I just tucked him away in the corner of my mind, or something. And I truly adore Dean. I know we didn't get off to a great start, I mean with the dinner party and all, but he's an incredible person. And he's so sweet to me, you have no idea."

"I do have an idea. I've seen him with you, and I won't deny that there's chemistry. It's just not fair to him, or to yourself, or to Harry, if you do have feelings for someone else and you won't admit to it."

"Oh, bugger."

"What is it?"

"Do you know what this means?"

"Do I know what what means?"

"Regardless of feelings, I effing _cheated_ on Dean! God effing dammit bleeding -" And she proceeded to storm round her room, uttering curses and knocking over things, before coming to a stop and throwing herself somewhat melodramatically onto the bed.

"You done yet?" asked Hermione.

"No - I mean, yes - but don't you see - I effing - I'm a cheater!"

"You're not -"

"I EFFING CHEATED ON DEAN!" Ginny bellowed. "There's no getting around that fact! You can say all you want about feelings and Harry and how he likes me or whatever other rubbish you can come up with, but none of that changes the fact that I cheated on my boyfriend."

"Ginny, kissing isn't -"

"So what if it was a kiss? I still cheated on him!"

"You -"

"I CHEATED ON HIM!"

"GINEVRA!" shouted Hermione in frustration, standing up. "You are being incorrigible and mule-headed right now." It was a testament to the closeness of their friendship that Ginny did not deck her. "Listen. I understand you're upset. All I'm saying is that we aren't 12 anymore. We don't play spin the bottle and we go a bit farther than a peck on the lips before class. Kissing is far more forgivable than any number of things you could've done."

"But it's still cheating -"

"_Ginny. _Let me finish."

"Sorry."

Hermione spoke quickly and fiercely now. "The only thing that would make this form of 'cheating' any worse than it is - which frankly isn't very much - is if feelings were behind it. Yeah, once you tell him - and you _are_ going to tell him, I don't care if I have to get a pack of wild horses to drag it out of you - he might go bonkers and flip out at Harry. But when it comes down to it, your relationship's ability to get over the incident is more than a little contingent on how you felt. If Harry grabbed you and kissed you and you felt nothing and ran off, then Dean's got no reason to be upset more than anyone would be if their significant other did that with someone else. I need to know, and you need to figure out, if it meant anything to you."

Ginny was silent, staring at her "Spring" and "Honeysuckle" 3-wick candles.

"Do you have feelings for Harry?"

She looked pale.

"Ginny."

"I really, really like Dean."

"Do you have feelings for Harry?"

"I..."

"Ginny?"

"I think I..."

"Ginny, for god's sake, spit it out!"

"I..." She thought of Dean, and of what she felt when she was around him, which could not be more different from what she felt around Harry. Neither were bad. Both gave her butterflies; both made her smile; both were her best friends.

But Dean was her boyfriend. Dean was kind, Dean was smart, Dean would do anything for her. Dean was sweet and nice and understanding and she was not about to let the perfect guy slip through her fingers. She couldn't. She wouldn't. They were so good together, so easy, and being around him made all the troubles of her world slip away. If she was crying, she wanted him there. If she was lost, he would find her. If she was honest, he would never judge her.

"No," she said finally. "I don't. I don't have feelings for Harry."

And Hermione, though unconvinced, said simply, "Good."

_xxx_

After supper, the family - plus guests - congregated in the living room.

"Oh, hello, Perce," said Bill, taken aback as his younger brother walked in. "I thought you had work to do?"

"That can wait," Percy said airily. "I'd rather hang out with you lot." Audrey looked up and smiled, almost encouragingly.

"Really?" asked Charlie. "You're - you're serious, now?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Did he look _happy?_

Mrs. Weasley turned on the twins. "Fred, George, what did you do?" she snapped. "If you put something in his drink again, so help me I will -"

"Mum, stop! They didn't do anything." Percy pulled up a pouf and sat down. "Am I really that awful that the second I want to spend some quality family time, you all act like I've grown a third eye?"

Everyone nodded somberly.

He scoffed. "Well, fine. If this is what my reception's going to be like, then I might as well -"

"No," said Fleur. "We are just astonished, zat is all. Please do stay."

"Well, alright then. I don't believe we've been properly introduced," he added, extending a hand. "I'm Percy."

She looked at him rather stonily. "You 'ave introduced yourself three times to me now."

"What? I'm sorry, I must have been preoccupied!"

"What a shocker," muttered George.

"Dear, we're all very happy you've chosen to join us," put in Molly, glaring at the twins. "Would you like to tell us what you've been up to, all holed up in your room?"

"If you're actually interested." He shifted awkwardly when no one made a note of protest. "I've actually been, erm, in contact with some high-level representatives and it looks as if..."

"This story's gone on for hours, save me," Fred said to Harry.

"Yeah, but isn't it worth it to see old Weatherby practicing social skills?" whispered George. "I can't remember the last time he - hi, Charlie. Something the matter?"

Charlie glowered in Audrey's direction, who was staring at Percy and beaming. "I'm telling you, mates, she's up to no good."

"You can't really blame her for being nice," Harry tried to point out.

"Nice is one thing. This is another."

"I don't see what's so terrible about seeing her being sociable with someone other than yourself," hissed Fred.

"Because it's clear I haven't got her anymore, isn't it?" Charlie's brow furrowed. "I just thought we had something."

"You don't know that you don't," insisted Harry. "So what if she's -"

"Cut it out." This was the harshest thing warm, friendly, lion tamer Charlie had ever uttered to anyone as far as Harry knew, and he stiffened. "Sorry. You just...you don't get what it's like, do you? To think you've lost someone, and then realize that you never had 'em in the first place?"

Harry tried to push Ginny out of his head. "Yeah, I do," he said, standing up to get a glass of water. "I really do."


	13. It'll Be Great

_Summary - _AU. Harry Potter lives an ordinary post-college, non-magical life. Everything is hunky dory until he realizes that he's got feelings for none other than the sister of his roommate, Ron Weasley. Moreover, she's just been swept off her feet by handsome Dean Thomas, who happens to have a grudge against Harry and Ron ever since their best friend, Hermione, punched his cousin (Draco Malfoy) in the face. Contains H/G, R/H, fluff, angst, and a fairly engaging plot line, if I do say so myself.

_Disclaimer - _I regret to inform you that I am not, cannot, and, unless science makes some major technological advances, will never be JK Rowling. I own none of the characters, terms, references, or places aside from ones I create and my storyline! Also, while I wish I had half the artistic ability of the people who are part of DeviantArt, I do not, and the cover photo is credited to user **~myavi** on said site.

_Author's note - _Unfortunately, school is about to begin for me, and I take the biology SAT in a month. This means that I will be spending all of my spare time from now until then studying by day and sobbing over Harry Potter books and wishing I had a HBP to help save my butt by night. So updates will be few and far between. I hope that when I do return I will still have you wonderful followers and fans!

_Chapter Thirteen: It'll Be Great_

They spent the rest of the evening playing cards and making small talk as a rugby game played in the background. Charlie cheered up considerably - particularly after Audrey snapped at Percy for talking too much about politics - but, unfortunately, Harry did not.

He felt as if he were the only person in present company who was less than ecstatic; that is, until he noticed that Fred and George had sequestered themselves in a corner and seemed to be commiserating over something. Casting a furtive glance at the circle of people (Molly had recently turned her eyes sharply and calculatingly on him; she had, he expected, realized that something was wrong, and was waiting to interrogate him once the prime opportunity arose), he scooted over to where they sat.

"...I just reckoned they'd say something tonight, at the very least. It's in two days, after all."

"I'm a bit disappointed, yeah -"

"Everything okay?" asked Harry.

"You're one to talk," snapped George.

"What?"

"You've forgotten as well, haven't you?"

"Forgotten what?"

The twins exchanged dark looks.

Exasperated, Harry said, "I can't make anything better unless you tell me what you're on about."

"Fine. It's kind of our birthday coming up," said Fred.

"And we thought maybe you all were planning some sort of surprise. I guess it's not a big deal, really, is it? Fleur's here, now Audrey's here, Percy's just found enlightenment, who are we to steal their thunder?"

"Crikey, mates, I'm so,_ so_ sorry," started Harry.

"Stop," said George. "It's fine. We're being silly."

"No, you're absolutely not." Harry remembered all too clearly the dread accompanying every 31st of July. The solitude, the sense of worthlessness, the fear that nobody in the entire world really cared...he recalled painstakingly tracing a cake in the sand outside his foster home upon turning 11, and was about to blow out the candles when bully Dudley Dursley came marching over and stomped all over it. Much as it hurt that no one wanted to celebrate his birthday, he figured it must have hurt considerably more had he been accustomed to big blow-out parties marking every year, and to suddenly be denied that.

"Anyway," said Fred gloomily, and there was real disappointment in his normally jovial tone.

"It's not a big deal," repeated George. "I just figured that maybe Mum would say something, or Ginny and Ron before they left. You know, we don't let many things get to us, do we, Gred?"

"Never, Forge."

"So it's unusual that this would be as bothersome as it is. Hence the previous statement that we're only being silly."

Something in Harry felt terrible; the twins had done so much to keep up his spirits, as well as everybody else's in the house, and even he had forgotten April 1. Plus, planning would take his mind off of Ginny and Dean. And so, though he knew it might backfire, he said impulsively, "Don't worry. We're actually planning you a surprise party."

The men's eyes lit up like they were schoolboys. "_Really?_ That's - that's _brilliant_, mate!"

"Thank you!" Fred clapped him on the back enthusiastically, then cleared his throat and beckoned him closer. "Hey, um, d'you think you'd get Angelina to come? For George? I've got her number," he said in an eager undertone.

"Erm...of course! Yeah, sounds good." Harry grinned. "It'll be great. Don't tell, though."

Fred winked. "Cross my heart."

_xxx_

Ginny awoke the next morning at noon and realized that her alarm clock had not gone off. Thanking her lucky stars that it was a Sunday, she yawned and checked her phone. She had 12 unread texts, through which she began idly scrolling while groping for a t-shirt and pair of running shorts to change into.

She was just responding to Hermione's five messages, reassuring her that Ron was head over heels, and the thing with Harry was over, and no, she was not concerned at all about her upcoming presentation and neither should she be, when one popped up from Harry. Heartbeat quickening in dread and apprehension she tapped the notification, which brought her to a running group conversation between Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Thank god," she said breathlessly, though there was no one in the room. She did not think that she could have managed a personal text from him, not just yet.

**hey, sorry to bother you lot, but we all dropped the ball on fred and georges birthday and i might have promised an awesome surprise party out of pity. a party that doesnt exist. if either of you have any suggestions please let me know. -hp**

Ron replied before Ginny could begin typing.

**Ah shit mate totally forgot I'll call em tonight. Classic Harry, panic and make promises you can't keep? Good going.**

Smirking slightly to herself - this was indeed a habit of his - she said,

**ya don't worry i'll brainstorm. i feel rly bad...**

**Oh my gosh I feel awful! Really, it slipped my mind, I'm swamped at work again, but yes, no worries, Ginny and I'll talk about it when I get home. Have you informed the others on the situation? ~H. Granger**

**bill, charlie, fleur, arthur. figured molly might freak out and carry on about it so i think i'll wait to break the news that she forgot her own sons' birthday. -hp**

**What about Charlie's friend? Audrey? Ron said she was cool. ~H. Granger**

**can't really... believe it or not, she's taken some sort of interest in percy. -hp**

**WHAT THE BLOODY HELL Percy? As in, my brother?**

**hahaha i know, we're all in shock. anyway they're thick as thieves now so i don't know if charlie would appreciate me inviting her to help on this. -hp**

**Alright, lads, lunch break's over, talk to you later. Harry, don't worry. It'll be fine. And for god's sake, if you and Ron want to keep talking do me a favor and keep that to a private text conversation rather than spamming Ginny's and my phone. Thank you. ~H. Granger**

Both men apologized; Ginny didn't bother responding at all.

Already strategizing - she did feel quite guilty, considering that she had not only forgotten her favorite brothers' birthday but had also unkindly abandoned them - Ginny hummed and made her way into the kitchen. She was about to put a slice of toast in when someone came from behind and put their hands over her eyes.

"Guess who," Dean murmured, body warm and pressed firmly against Ginny's back. He slipped his arms about her waist as she spun around, and leaned in for a kiss.

"Hey," she said, hand reaching up to cup his cheek as their lips met and she relaxed against his chest. When she pulled away, the emotion in his eyes gave her goosebumps. "Missed you," she whispered, and he nodded, gazing at her.

"Oh, I made you breakfast," he said presently, leading her over to the breakfast nook. "Voila." He whipped off a saucepan lid off to reveal a plate of steaming, fluffy scrambled eggs, two pieces of cinnamon toast, and five strips of crisp bacon. "And I pressed some orange for fresh juice," he added, gesturing to a pitcher and pouring her a glass. "I hope you don't mind that I, erm..."

"Snuck into my house, waited for me to wake up - pretty stalkerish in itself, I must say - and cooked breakfast in my own kitchen?"

"Yeah, that."

He shifted nervously in the most endearing of ways. Only Dean, thought Ginny fondly, could take her sarcasm seriously, and that was just because he liked her so bloody much. Harry - Harry would have bantered back - but she couldn't afford to let him cross her mind - no, he didn't like her, that kiss meant nothing..."It's fine," she said. "You're perfect."

A smile split his face and he took a seat, knee nudging hers gently. "Right back atcha."

They ate happily; she talked about her family, carefully skirting the topic of Harry, and he enthused about work. Before they knew it, it was four o'clock and Hermione, having been let off early, bustled inside, extracting her favorite spiral bound notebook and brandishing it like a magician's wand. With an ominous click of a pen, she swept into the living room, where Ginny and Dean were watching a movie, and said sternly, "Ginny, we have a party to plan."

"Are you serious?" she asked, nodding furtively to her boyfriend. "We were kind of -"

"Yes, well, this is important," said Hermione briskly, depositing a stack of post on the coffee table and standing before the couple. She rather conspicuously avoided meeting Dean's eye, and coughed uncomfortably when he said hello.

"Fine," Ginny said crossly. "I'll just -"

"Goodbye, Dean," Hermione said with a forced smirk.

"I could stay and help -"

"No thank you, you'd best be getting along."

"I - okay." Bewildered, as the two women exchanged a flurry of furious looks and mouthed words, he slunk quietly towards the door and put on his shoes. "Bye, Gin."

"No, stay," she all but begged. "Please. You can sleep over -"

"It's okay," he said, fumbling for his hoodie. "Don't - I'm not welcome here, so."

"No! Hermione's just - she's got -"

"Some big issue with me, I know. I'm sorry, babe." He gave her a one-armed hug.

"I'm sorry," she said desperately, pecking him on the cheek. "I'll call you later." The moment he was gone, she turned on Hermione, hissing, "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"What's wrong is that you kissed Harry and clearly haven't told Dean!"

"What's wrong is you treating me like this! Are you trying to break us up? Why do you even care?"

"Because I love you and Harry, and I don't want Dean to get hurt either!" Hermione gazed at her helplessly. "You _have_ to tell him!"

"It didn't mean anything!"

"It did! You're just in denial!"

"I'm not in denial!" Ginny bellowed. Hermione flinched. "Sorry. I'm not in denial," she repeated in a normal tone of voice, "because there's nothing to deny. Harry kissed me. I know that. I probably led him on by accident. It is what it is, and I don't have feelings for him."

"You used to fancy him, though."

"Yeah, I did! But -surprise! - now I don't! These things happen! I moved on, and so should he!"

"What if he started dating someone else, right now? You wouldn't be jealous?"

Ginny crossed her arms. "No. I want him to be happy."

Hermione gave a derisive laugh. "You call _me _cliche?"

"I do! I do want him to be happy!"

"So no jealousy."

"Not even a smidgen."

"Alright." Hermione sighed. "I just...you need to tell Dean, at the very least. Tell him it didn't mean anything, that Harry initiated, that you pushed him away. But you can't keep secrets like this. Promise?"

Ginny chewed on her bottom lip. "Promise."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Only if _you _promise to keep your mouth shut about it until I do."

Hermione shrugged. "That's a caveat I suppose I can live with."

Ginny grinned. "Thanks. Now, what was this about a party?"

_xxx_

Harry informed Molly of the Fred and George situation after breakfast. She reacted much like he had expected her to, and tearfully apologized and "I do hope you don't judge me, dear" and "I've just been so flustered what with so many people milling around the house" and "goodness, I'm a terrible mother, aren't I," all of which culminated in a weepy profession of love for her two darling sons, and the pledge to make this the best birthday bash ever.

Once her histrionics were over, Mrs. Weasley banished the twins to the village, where they were ordered to stay until she gave the okay. They obliged, particularly after she made up for her attack of hugs and kisses by handing them her debit card, and the house became a well-oiled party-planning machine the moment the door swung shut.

Audrey and Percy came downstairs just as Bill and Charlie were delegating assignments to every member of the committee.

Charlie consulted the clipboard in his hands. "Fleur, you go to the nearest craft store and find streamers, silly string, tinsel, paper cups, plates, and plastic utensils. Grab anything else that would look good hung up around the walls. We've drafted a list of eight gifts we deem appropriate for them, so don't forget to pick your number and you're responsible for obtaining the designated present. Got it?"

She nodded, keys already in hand, and drew a scrap of paper from the bowl on the kitchen island. The corresponding item was a basket of chocolates from Honeydukes, their favorite candy shop.

Bill took over as his girlfriend departed. "Next. Uh, Audrey, you're responsible for things that fall under the noisy, light-up category. Seeing as the dear twins have the emotional maturity of a kindergartener, it's pathetically easy to amuse them. Stay away from their store, obviously, or any of their competitors - we don't want a mutiny on our hands - but try to find noisemakers, LED lights, things that either deafen or blind you. Preferably both. Dad and Charlie will figure out the technical stuff, extension cords, electricity, the like. Our vision is something akin to the most tremendous Christmas display imaginable. They'll walk into a dark house and then we can do the whole 'surprise!' thing by flipping a switch. Capisce?"

"Sounds good," said Audrey brightly, gathering her purse. "Oops." A shower of change landed and scattered on the floor. "Sorry, guys. Just a sec."

Percy had eagerly sprung to his feet and was picking them up, handing the pile to her. "I'll come with you," he offered breathlessly.

"Er..."

"Nope," said Charlie quickly. "I mean - Perce, you're needed here, yeah?" He stared rather fiercely at his brother.

"I - okay."

"Pick a number," Charlie said tersely to Audrey.

She drew a number, and announced,

"Monogrammed 'Gred and Forge sweater vests'? What?"

"Ah, yes," said Bill. "They've called themselves 'Gred and Forge' since we can remember, and always put up a stink over how Mum never wrote that on their personalized apparel, so we thought they'd get a kick out of that."

"I won't question it. See ya." Audrey waved and was gone.

"You needed me - ?" Percy started, but Charlie said sharply,

"Shut up, we'll get to you. Mum, you're obviously on baking duty. Do you have everything you need?"

"I believe so, yes. Ice cream, sugar, flour, brown sugar, baking powder, confectioner's sugar, baking soda, eggs -"

"We don't need a recipe, just confirmation," said Bill. "We're in a bit of a time crunch here. Charlie and I'll be your errand boys if you need anything, alright? Take care of the cake first; if there's one thing I know about you it's that you can make a banquet appear out of nothing, so don't worry too much about their birthday dinner."

"Alright, dear," said Molly, shaking out her apron with a satisfying _fwak!_ "I'll get on it right away. Should I choose a number?"

"Nah, let Dad get two."

She bustled off into the kitchen, and Charlie pointed at Arthur.

"Like Bill said before, you and I will need to figure out how to wire and light up the stuff Audrey's getting. Until she returns, though, you can run out and grab some presents, while I'll try to get Ron, Ginny, and Hermione up here by tomorrow."

"What?" said Arthur, surprised. "It's a very long drive up here, and I wouldn't want them to go to the trouble."

"Too bad. They're the ones who ditched without remembering the twins' birthday."

"To be fair, Hermione had work," put in Harry, "but yeah, it'd be nice if they'd come."

Arthur sighed and extracted his wallet. He was assigned a vintage set of comic books, as well as customized mugs and phone cases bearing the Weasley's Wacky Wheezes logo, which were understandably difficult to come by at such short notice. Harry, still feeling guilty, offered up a large sum of money to pay for Arthur and Molly's share, shrugging off their protests and hurrying Mr. Weasley through the door.

"Charlie, you sure about this?" asked Harry when they had a moment alone. "Inviting them here again?"

"Yeah, of course," he said. "We're a family."

"But, like, you know...Ginny's only just reunited with Dean, and Hermione and Ron have finally got -"

"I'm going to get them to come," said Charlie stubbornly. "They have to come."

"Wait. This isn't about - are you really that peeved by Audrey and Percy?"

Charlie slumped onto a stool, staring at his broad hands. "No, I mean...I just reckon it'd be nice to have other people who actually want to be around me. And the family thing."

"We all want to be around you!"

"Really."

"Honestly! If Audrey's going to be like that, it's her loss, isn't it?"

"I guess."

"You know what? Maybe you _should _try and get the others to come. I already told them about it, and Hermione's already offered a lot of suggestions, but it'd be nice if they could experience it with us." Even if that meant facing Ginny. Who would probably ignore him. And he would probably lose it at some point, just not in front of the twins. That part would be slightly not fun. Worth it, though. "It's decided then," he said, clapping Charlie on the back. "They're coming."

Charlie's face lit up. "Blimey, it'll be great. I haven't seen Hermione in ages, and Ron's always been a bit of a favorite. Well, him and Ginny. I'll ring him now - do you mind calling Ginny? I know you two are close."

"Er." Okay, so the said slightly not fun part was supposed to come later, preferably after everyone had gone to bed the following night. This wasn't remotely fair. "Tell you what, I'll let Hermione know, and she'll relay the message to Ginny. Capisce?"

A questioning, quasi-suspicious look crossed Charlie's face for a split second; then he shrugged. "Fine by me."

"Great," muttered Harry. "It'll be great."


	14. It Takes Time

_Summary - _AU. Harry Potter lives an ordinary post-college, non-magical life. Everything is hunky dory until he realizes that he's got feelings for none other than the sister of his roommate, Ron Weasley. Moreover, she's just been swept off her feet by handsome Dean Thomas, who happens to have a grudge against Harry and Ron ever since their best friend, Hermione, punched his cousin (Draco Malfoy) in the face. Contains H/G, R/H, fluff, angst, and a fairly engaging plot line, if I do say so myself.

_Disclaimer - _I regret to inform you that I am not, cannot, and, unless science makes some major technological advances, will never be JK Rowling. I own none of the characters, terms, references, or places aside from ones I create and my storyline! Also, while I wish I had half the artistic ability of the people who are part of DeviantArt, I do not, and the cover photo is credited to user **~myavi** on said site.

_Author's note - _Goodness, it has been too long. I successfully got through the big test, but school has been unexpectedly demanding. I will continue to take every chance I can to work on new chapters, though. Thank you to those of you who have been favoriting and following this fic. It means the world to me, particularly since I've been so terrible at updating. I know this is a very short chapter, but I wanted to give you all something! Please read and review, and stay tuned for more.

_x_

_Chapter Fourteen: It Takes Time_

"Harry just called," Hermione announced, striding into the bathroom and reaching for her toothbrush. "He wants us to come."

Ginny, who was in the middle of washing her hands, froze. "_What?_ Shit." She flinched.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just let the water run too long and scalded myself a bit." Drying off, she tried to calm herself. "Did he say we had to?"

Mouth full of toothpaste, Hermione explained, "He just said Charlie's down in the dumps because of this whole Audrey-Percy business and would love some more company."

"And my other brothers aren't enough because...?"

"He _likes_ you, Ginny! You're his little sister," said Hermione, spitting into the sink and wiping her mouth off. "You know how it is. You and Bill are, like, friendly and civil, but Charlie is the big brother we all want, the one who's protective and sweet."

"Who tames lions in his spare time."

"Well, you know." She shrugged. "Details."

Ginny gave a quick smile. "Um, did you talk to Ron about it?"

"Yeah, he's going and we're invited to come along."

"I'm assuming that the invite doesn't extend to Dean?"

"Well, no."

"Figures." She could not decide how she felt about this exclusion. "When does Ron leave?"

Hermione consulted her watch. "An hour and a half."

"Hermione!" she yelped. "That's - that's only 90 minutes! I can't - I need time to think about this."

Her friend raised an eyebrow. "The party's tomorrow. It's a good five hours up there. We're not going to get there until after dinner at this rate."

"I refuse to drop everything and run because Harry wants us to."

"Ginny! Do you realize how self centered you're coming across right now? This isn't all about Harry, this is about family, and if you're so worked up about this just _talk_ to him! I get that it's a big deal but you've got to get it together. Honestly. It's not because he wants us to, it's because Charlie, and everyone else, misses you."

"I haven't told Dean yet!"

"I have yet to grasp the connection between that and traveling back to see your family, who you ditched, for your twin brothers' birthday."

"There's no connection, dammit!" She sunk to the bathroom floor. Hermione stood above her, exasperated. "I just don't think I could handle it. I couldn't. Going back and seeing him? He's going to be all weird, and I'm going to feel weird, and Mum's a lot more observant than she lets on, and the last thing I need is an good ol' Weasley-style interrogation right now."

Hermione sat cross-legged next to her. "Listen. I know Harry kind of well, too, if a decade or so of friendship counts, and I know he'll be cool. And if he isn't, that doesn't mean he's not making a valiant attempt to be." Silence. "Okay. That's not very reassuring. Rewinding. He'll be fine. You can handle one night."

"Do you really think so?" asked Ginny bleakly. "Things are going so well with Dean, I just can't handle it if something happens and -"

"You have to trust Harry a little bit," Hermione said sharply. "He's not going to make a move on you."

"Oh my god, have you talked to him?"

"No, he won't return my calls."

Ginny whacked her in the shoulder. "What have we discussed about boundaries and not getting overly involved in other people's social situations?"

"This is important!" Quelling under her flatmate's fierce glare, Hermione said meekly, "I'm sorry. I won't try to interfere again."

"_Thank_ you." Ginny crossed her arms, huffing.

"Right. I'm going to go pack. Ron's picking me up soon. You can come along if you wish."

"God dammit, Hermione!" Ginny called down the hallway. "You're insufferable!" Groaning in frustration, she got up and went to her room, grabbing an overnight bag on the way.

_xxx_

"Draco! We're leaving!" Narcissa buttoned up the front of her jacket.

"Coming." He grabbed his shoes. "Where are we going again?"

"Family therapy."

"Do we have to?"

"_Yes_. It's in the prison, and highly recommended for families who are healing from abuse."

"'Healing'? We aren't 'healing,'" Draco started bitterly. "They're forcing us to, against our will, I might add, and frankly -"

"Darling, please."

"Sorry."

She pressed her lips together in a small, very sad smile. "It's alright. Let's do this."

He followed her out, mentally bracing himself.

_Healing_, he scoffed, fiddling with the window switch. There were a lot of things that his almost comically dysfunctional family could do, and healing was definitely not in the top 50. In fact, he was fairly certain that "healing" from their history was at number 100, if it made the list at all.

A pile of paperwork and, in his opinion, rude questions later and he was twiddling his thumbs, shifting awkwardly in a scratchy waiting room chair. Narcissa was signing off on about fifty thousand agreements and waivers saying that she wouldn't sue the institution if her husband went bonkers and tried to strangle her, or some rubbish of the sort.

"How long have you been waiting?" he finally blurted out to the general population. Everyone ignored him, except a slender young woman three seats down.

"It's usually an hour the first day," she said quietly, so quietly that he could barely hear her.

"Really?"

She nodded. Her mouth was drawn into a straight line. "It's a bit of a hassle."

"Does this help?"

"It takes a long time."

"But does it help?"

She seemed unable to look him in the eye. "I think so, yes."

"How long have you been coming here?"

"A year and a half."

"Are you serious?"

She nodded meekly. "It's not bad."

"I know, but - blimey - 18 months of _this?_"

"It takes time."

"Right."

They both fell silent, caught up in their own thoughts. He noticed that she had a strange habit of running her left thumb across the knuckles of her right hand, over and over. Before he could try to make more conversation, however, a man with a clipboard entered and said crisply, "Astoria? Are you ready?"

"Yes," she murmured, and drifted past Draco. He crossed and uncrossed and recrossed his legs and coughed and scratched his head until he thought he might implode.

"It takes time," he whispered to himself, turning the phrase over and over in his head, as if he was in grade school and the teacher had just given out a particularly tricky maths problem. "It takes time."

_xxx_

"Is everything okay?" Ron asked concernedly. Hermione cocked an eyebrow at Ginny in the left wing mirror.

"Fine," said Ginny shortly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Hermione?"

"Ginny's just a little, you know, nervous."

"About?"

"Er - she really wants - oh, for god's sake, Ginny, just tell him!"

"_What? _No!"

"He's his best friend -"

"Wait, does this have to do with Harry?"

"NO!" shouted Ginny fiercely.

"Did he bitch at you? He's been in a bitchy mood lately. I can have a talk with him."

"No, nothing happened. I have to use the loo. Can you take this exit?"

"We're running late -"

"Ron! Just effing pull over!"

"So you can have a mental breakdown by the side of the road?"

"You're horrible -"

"Guys!" yelled Hermione. "Calm down. Ron, keep driving. Ginny, I'm sorry that I pushed you too much. You've just got to -"

"Hermione? Sidebar."

"What, in the car?"

"I can listen to music," Ron offered helpfully.

"Shut up," snapped Ginny. "Text me."

"Okay."

**why?!**

**I'm sorry. ~H. Granger**

**do u have any idea how awk this is going to be?**

**Give Harry some credit! He's an adult, and you are too. Time to start acting like one. ~H. Granger**

**we /kissed/, hermione. it's not like oh whatever i just snogged my brother's best friend no big deal it's totally fine and normal and now i'm going to a party w him. this is serious shit!**

**Yeah, but you have to pull it together. If you don't want your mum to be on your arse about it, you've got to figure out a way to act normal. ~H. Granger**

**i don't know**

**You can do it. And yeah, maybe it'll be awkward. It will definitely be awkward. But I believe in you and I honestly think that the more time you spend in normal situations with/around Harry, the less awkward it will get. Give it time. ~H. Granger**

**time heals all wounds, right?**

**Exactly. ~H. Granger**

**& these things take time?**

**Yes. ~H. Granger**

**but hermione i like dean so effing much!**

**Irrelevant. ~H. Granger**

**i used to be the cool confident girl who had it all together u know? & idk what happened, but all of a sudden i don't have it all together, not even a smidgen. that sucks.**

**We all lose our confidence from time to time. ~H. Granger**

**idk.**

**It takes time. ~H. Granger**

**so u rly think it'll be ok?**

**Absolutely. Now apologize to Ron. ~H. Granger**

Ginny heaved a sigh and tossed her mobile to the side, atop a stack of tabloids. "Ron?"

"What?"

"I'm - I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"Really?"

"You owe me."

"Fair enough."

The conversation shifted, thanks to a tactful remark on Hermione's behalf regarding the weather, and they were pulling up into the over-crowded driveway soon enough.

"They're here!" shouted Charlie, leaping through the doorway and hugging Ginny before she could reach for her bag. "Thanks for coming," he said.

"No problem," she muttered, eyes flickering towards the house.

"How are preparations?" asked Hermione briskly, extracting Ron's suitcase from the boot and passing it to him. "All done?"

"Yep. We're about to sit down for a low-key dinner. The twins have been holed up in their room all day, though luckily we didn't hear a single explosion."

"You never know, with them," Ron pointed out thoughtfully.

Charlie chuckled. "Come on, then."

They stepped across the threshold. Voices echoed from the kitchen and dining room. The scraping sound of silverware and plates clinking together as someone, probably Fleur and Audrey, set the table were both comforting and disconcerting to Ginny, who felt somewhat as if everything had suddenly changed.

"Harry! They're here," she heard Charlie announce, and her heart began racing. Ron strode confidently into the other room, taking Hermione's hand and pulling her along with him. This left Ginny standing rather alone, lost in her own house.

"Hermione!" cried Mrs. Weasley, and Hermione's "Lovely to see you again" was muffled against her apron.

A round of greetings came next; Ginny suspected that they were unlikely to miss her for some time. This was the advantage of being in a large family. She sat down shakily on the couch and crossed her arms, idly tracing the contours of her phone case.

"Ginny?"

She yelped, jumping up, then felt immensely relieved to see that it was just Fred.

"You okay?"

"I - no."

"Oi, what's this?" asked George, joining his brother. "You okay?"

"No," said Ginny miserably.

"What's wrong?" The twins perched on the edge of the coffee table, facing their sister.

"If I tell you, you have to _swear_ not to tell."

"Promise," they said solemnly.

"Are you sure?"

"We're sure. Does Hermione know what's going on?"

"Of course."

"Ron?"

"Never."

"Harry?"

She froze.

"Blimey, it's about him, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"What happened?"

She took a deep, shuddery breath, and was on the verge of blurting it out, her stupid little mistake seconds from being exposed, when Harry walked in. He only saw the twins, as the sofa's back was high enough to conceal her head, and said casually, "Dinner's almost ready, your mum says you're allowed to come in now."

"Oh, okay," said George, raising his eyebrows urgently at Ginny.

"Did you see Ginny, by any chance?" Harry added, and if it were not for the years of knowing him, Ginny would never have noticed the tightening in his voice. Unfortunately for both of them, she had him well memorized by now, and she clenched her jaw as Fred said,

"Actually, she's right here."

Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she collected herself enough to turn around and wave weakly at the black-haired lad. "Hi," she said.

"Hey." He gave a restrained head nod, then addressed the twins, "Anyway, you'd best hurry up."

"Right. Coming, sis?"

"Yes," was all she could muster, and followed her brothers into the warmth and brightness of the kitchen. If Harry was going to be mature and civil, well, then so could she. Definitely. Without a doubt.

Hermione grabbed her hand as she passed by, squeezed it, and mouthed, _It will be okay._ Ginny tried fervently to believe this. Harry, for his part, carefully avoided associating with her - easy to do, given the large number of current inhabitants. It seemed to Ginny that their house's population was on an exponential growth curve.

Ron was beaming at Hermione half the time, taking every opportunity to make physical contact with her; she blushed and stammered responses like a schoolgirl speaking with her crush. Ginny, glancing at Harry, thought there was some sort of longing concealed behind those emerald eyes. Before she could analyze this suspicion, he said, "How was the journey?"

"Not bad." Ron passed him the plate of cheese and crackers. "A spot of traffic in the beginning."

"Yeah, rush hour can be tough. Sorry I reached you so late."

"It's fine, mate. Next time you should call Ginny, she's the one who's always on her phone."

Ginny choked. She retreated until she could breathe again and re-entered the conversation wheezing slightly.

"...we've got a kickass party planned, if I do say so myself," Charlie was saying, having joined them while Ginny was indisposed. "Harry'll fill you lot in on the details later tonight."

"Great," said Hermione. "We're really glad we could make it."

"Me too."

"Dinner smells good," Ginny said. Harry walked off to help Mrs. Weasley with a platter of chicken wings.

"Er - yeah." Charlie cocked his head at her. Sodding brothers. They'd grown up accustomed to her "moods," as they called them - the twins used this term interchangeably with "estrogen poisoning" - and therefore were inconveniently tuned into her emotional state.

"I'm fine," she snapped before he could say anything, and went to the dining room.

"Oh, Ginny, dear, we had to move around the seating a bit to accommodate everyone," Mrs. Weasley piped up as she headed for her normal spot between Charlie and Hermione. "You're next to Harry now."

And, admittedly, the only thing that flashed across Ginny's mind as she dragged her feet in Harry's direction was a particularly strong four-letter word.


End file.
